First Time
by 221bfanfic
Summary: AU. The Johnlock version of the movie "The Lover (adapted from Marguerite Duras' L'Amant)". This story is set in the British colonial Hong Kong before the World War II. British officer John Watson was stationed here. One day, John met the mysterious teenager Sherlock on a ferry and was deeply attracted by him. Then they started a tangled relationship.
1. First Met

Contrary to the usual cold climate in London, Hong Kong was hot and humid in summer. People became irritability intolerable because of the annoying weather. At the end of the summer holidays, Sherlock no longer needed to stay in that damn house which he did not want to stay one more minutes. He did not want to see his big brother Mycroft 's face again.

Mycroft, nasty Mycroft. Always so well-dressed and polite, made you think that he might be a saint who would never make mistakes. All times business-ridden, as if missing him the world will stop running - maybe this was true.

Mycroft's hardworking attitude might have benefited many people in the world, but not his brother Sherlock. The Holmes family had an aristocratic and gentry background, but while came to Mycroft's generation, it had long been declined. An early dead father and a neurasthenic mother made Mycroft assumed the responsibility of taking care and educating Sherlock. But Mycroft's political talent was soon appreciated by the British government that entrusted him with the task, from a small civil service jumped into a diplomat, was sent to different places for the government to resolve disputes. Sherlock traveled with his brother since he was a little child, running across most of the earth, but never staying in the same place for more than a year. Frequently transferred from one school to another, Sherlock could not find any sense of belonging no matter where. Also because of his eccentric character, Sherlock could not make any friends. He just felt himself floating like a duckweed with the water, no roots and insignificant.

Busy Mycroft was diligent and almighty, working all day long. Although lived with him, Sherlock might not see him once in a day. As clever as Sherlock, he learned to be independent early on, learned to solve his own problems, because his guardian is always absent when he needed him. He also thought his precocious would earn a little appreciation from his brother. But when his brother appeared, he never showed a little friendly attitude, always only severely criticized and reprimanded, as if Sherlock was an idiot. No matter how perfect Sherlock performed, in his sage brother's eyes, those were just kindergarten student's nonsense. He just could not do anything to catch up with Mycroft's standards.

Sherlock gave up to please his only brother a long time ago. On the contrary, he did anything Mycroft banned, the more Mycroft did not want him to do the more he wanted to do it. Mycroft was completely enraged and thought himself incapacitated to teach Sherlock anymore. He sent Sherlock to the most stringent boarding school, hoping that the strict discipline would tame the unruly Mustang.

Sherlock yearned for free air, the boarding school was not his cup of tea. Nevertheless, it was still better than staying in the same room with Mycroft and eating at the same table with him. So when the hot and swaggering summer holidays ended, embarking on a trip back to school, Sherlock had a sigh of relief that he could finally bid farewell to Mycroft. At the moment, he was wearing a tailor-made white shirt, dark gray trousers, black shoes, on the ferry to the schoolhouse, leaning on the railing, one foot on the iron branch, overlooking the distance, did not know a pair of blue eyes from behind was staring at him.

It was a car ferry. Sherlock stepped out of a crowded minibus crammed full of passengers. Not far behind, parked with a black car, the door opened, a young officer wearing uniforms came down.

"British?" A long absence of the British accent.

Sherlock turned around and found a blonde, blue-eyed young officer with a sunny smile was looking at him with interest.

Sherlock just gave an indifference sound and looked back to the water, as if the conversation is boring.

"Sorry, I am so excited to meet my fellow countrymen here, perhaps make you feel presumptuous." The officer smiled a little shyly, somewhat less in tune with his majestic uniform. He even seemed a little bit lovely childish when he smiled. "Especially young people like you are very rare. Most British come here to work, about business or political, all are wily old birds, seem so nasty."

Sherlock glancing at him thinking of Mycroft, lazy tone casually accosted, "Yes, wily old birds are nasty."

"The Queen's English, Londoner? Your voice is very nice." The smiling officer leaned over the railing, blowing the sea breeze with Sherlock and glancing at his school uniform. "St Stephen's College, you study in the boarding school at Stanley."

Sherlock stared at the distance, mouth like a machine gun when answered him, "You arrived here about a year ago, stationed in the Victoria barracks, is a military doctor. You just went to the Kowloon Peninsula for the local dignitaries visit. It was not your job, but by political reasons, the task was pressured down by your superior, and the patient was extremely troublesome, that's why you are now full of grievances." Just glanced at the officer's expression, Sherlock satirically smirked and looked away.

"That's..." The officer could not find a word but stared at Sherlock. "Amazing!"

Sherlock sneered and snorted.

"How do you know?" The officer asked.

"By deduction."

"Deduction like a detective investigating cases?" The officer perplexed, he paused and held out his hand. "I forgot to introduce myself, John Watson, although the rest of information you are just right guessed."

Sherlock looked at his extended hand a little bit surprised, hesitated for a while before shaking. "Sherlock Holmes. I never guess, I deduce."

John's hand was strong and warm, he lingering touched Sherlock's hand for a moment before letting go and then smiled - a smile with hunting confidence, and for the first time made people feeling dangerous of a soldier. "Could you let me send you back to school? I just have a feeling that you are not suitable for public transport. God, your look like a noble."

" Convenient for you?"

"As you said, I am now full of grievances, just want to go for a ride. I hope you could come with me."

Sherlock felt inexplicable - he was never easy to make friends or to be said that he did not have friends - but John was a total stranger who tried to talk to him, and Sherlock did not feel disgusted with it.

The ferry berthed, Sherlock left with John. John kindly bought some street snacks for Sherlock - Sherlock had never eaten these things - but he took the snacks, casually bit a few mouthfuls.

He even followed John's steps into his car. Car speeding on the highway, all of a sudden they did not know what to say, had to let a little embarrassment of silence spread.

"You like deduction?" John was curious about Sherlock.

"Right." Sherlock just looked out the window.

"How to deduce?"

"You are wearing a British army uniform, obviously stationed here in the military. The destination of the ferry is Hong Kong Island, stationed Victoria barracks as a matter of course. But you have the smell of disinfectants, your clothes despite washed still have residual iodine and red syrup splashed off the old stains, so you are a military doctor. " Sherlock pointed to the rescue package in the car. "This can also be corroborated. British troops generally stationed in the form of a three-year shift in Hong Kong, you are already familiar with things here, so it is not new. But you are still not used to the personnel style here, so it is not too long. If you leave soon, the plight of this place will not be too much in mind. But you are full of grievances, should also stay here for some time. You probably came about a year."

"Brilliant!"

Sherlock eyed John as if he was not accustomed to accepting appreciation. "You only serve the military, and now is not during a war, there is no special task, you should remain in the barracks. But you are wearing uniforms in the official car, with medical supplies, should be to visit. Based on the local medicine system is relatively backward, in accordance with my understanding of the political operation of the British government, you are invited out for the local important people is the most probably. The so-called important people, the British government has an interest, nothing more than the local dignitaries."

John was so excited with his eyes wide opened, could not help but applauded. "It's amazing! Your observation is awesome! Are you going to be a detective after graduated? I need to be your first client!"

Sherlock just not used to it. "You... seem to be very happy. Don't you think you're offended? Don't want to shut me up?"

"Why?"

"I saw you at a glance and can tell your life out. Don't you think I am a horrible freak?"

"It's amazing! Such a wonderful explanation by your voice, I would like to hear more." John's eyes were sincere.

Sherlock suddenly felt a little bit hot, dared not look at John, turned around and looked out the window.

Road scenery along the way back. John kept chatting with Sherlock, like why he knew the political operation of the British government, what his brother was doing here, and how was their relationship and so on. Sherlock just answered casually, but it was almost the first time he had ever said so much to a man who had just met.

Chatting was disconnected into silence when the car suddenly bumped a bit in a narrow and steep road, the two were thrown while exclaiming together, then their hands both fell on the seat. With an unexpectedly rapid heartbeat, Sherlock had a dizzy feeling - he tried to focus on the window and found a pair of hot gazes staring at himself from behind by the glass reflection. Sherlock felt John's hand moving closer on the seat, his little finger stuck to his, waiting for a while, his two fingers swept the back of Sherlock's hand, lingering the gap between his last two fingers, swept into the deepest, and then slowly gently penetrated into it, as if implying another body part, doing a very taboo behavior. Sherlock did not move, just looked at the window outside.

John turned his head away and looked out the other side window, but his hand fumbled Sherlock's hand a few times then tentatively covered it, held Sherlock's hand and stroked it softly with his thumb. Sherlock gently held back.

John was still taking action. He spread his palm, fingers flirt into Sherlock's fingers, so that their fingers intertwined closely, full of sexually suggestive kneading. Sherlock swallowed, closed his eyes, listened to the sounds of the outside environment in the high-speed traveling.

The car had been driven forward, the scene of the road constantly swirling. No one spoke for a long time.

* * *

When Sherlock's chest still undulating and panting, the car came to a halt - at the front of the school dormitory.

John's hand hurriedly retreated from Sherlock's thigh, leaving only the crumpled mark on his school trousers. Sherlock lightened, trying to calm his own breath of urgency, panicking not know where to put his hands. John behaved like a veteran, calm looking, hands gracefully folded up on the cocked legs, as if nothing had happened.

The driver took Sherlock's luggage and opened the door for him. Sherlock returned to the normal state of indifference, took his suitcase, looked back to John. John's eyes were with attachment and reluctance, his mouth slightly sheeted but could not find a word.

"Bye." Sherlock's voice did not reveal the slightest emotion. He turned to the dormitory doorway, did not turn around ever again.

John across the window looked at the boy he just met, whose back gradually drifting away. His heart had a sense of loss, did not know if they have a chance to meet again.


	2. Rumor Mill

In the dormitory room, Sherlock was lying in bed, head resting on arms with empty eyes staring at the ceiling, feeling bored. His roommate Victor broke into the room in a hurry and accidentally stumbled on Sherlock's luggage and things.

"Ouch!" he cried, holding his leg and jumped back to his bed to sit down: "You came back."

Sherlock's eyelids did not lift as if Victor was transparent.

"Sherlock." Victor shuddered.

"What?"

"I... I just saw it," Victor whispered like he was talking about the most horrible thing in the world.

Sherlock rolled his eyes impatiently.

"You just arrive, don't know what happened last week." Victor's voice trembled. "Last week, there was a freshmen orientation party. You know those senior students had been very crazy, this year was very outrageous - they even... told those freshmen... to blow... their..."

Sherlock found it a little bit interesting, raised one eyebrow towards Victor.

"Of course, they were just playing pretend, they still kept their trousers, and not too many new students willing to do it, mostly would rather losing the game and being punished for doing a push-up." Victor hurried to explain, paused. "But there was a new student called Rio who was really crazy, nearly crossed the line, and he so enjoyed." Victor blushed. "The senior who was sipped and licked by him, face gone red and panting, trousers went wet on the front. Rio still hadn't stopped at that point and even unbuttoned the senior's trousers. Fortunately, it was timely to stop, he did not touch the zipper and pull it down."

Sherlock smirked, "Funny."

"There was a rumor that Rio could do with anyone for money. Everyone secretly talked about it just like it was real." Victor said. "But no one could tell Rio had traded with whom, and everyone seemed to be avoiding to discuss it. I thought Rio was just crazy, might be everyone had misunderstood him, who knows... " His voice became smaller and smaller, and then stopped suddenly.

"You found him doing business in the toilet?"

"More unbearable," Victor swallowed. "My student card is gone. I just went to the School General Office to do the replacement. But there was no one there. I was surprised to hear the strange noise coming from the Vice-Chancellor's Office."

"Oh, no." Sherlock cried, laughing.

"Yup. Rio was in the Vice-Chancellor's Office, doing the thing with the Vice-Chancellor!" Victor's cheeks flushed with agitation, his eyes wide opened. "I stood on a table, peeped in the small window on the top of the room, saw the Vice-Chancellor still wearing his suit, but slipped off his pants, lying on the back of Rio and vigorously shagging him. Rio's shirt was pushed to the shoulder, pants by his ankles, his hands tied by his own tie, the whole body was pushed violently on the desk by the Vice-Chancellor. The Vice-Chancellor hold a long wooden ruler by the other hand." He shrank a bit. "Rio's legs and butt were full of red marks. Just thought about it, I feel pain!"

Sherlock snorted.

"He really demanded money so much?" Victor puzzled. "How could he do that to himself?"

"Maybe he's enjoying."

"Enjoy being tied and hit?" Victor could not imagine. "For this kind of thing, shouldn't wait until we meet the right person, and only do it with that person?"

"You mean girls?" Sherlock glanced at him.

Victor looked away and was shy with no reason, escaping Sherlock's eyes, his voice became even smaller, "Anyway, should be the person I love."

Sherlock smirked and did not ask Victor again. He knew exactly whom that person was - Victor crushed on him, he knew it since the first day he entered this room. Probably this was why no one in the school was able to endure Sherlock, only Victor could be his roommate and even chatted with him.

In a boys' school, especially a boarding school, love and crush rumours between boys were not rare, should be an open secret now. Only severe school rules made everything could only be carried out underground, the students are also extremely avoided to mention it, feared those scandals would be passed into the ears of the school or even destroyed their future - after all, this kind of thing was not allowed in the community, their reputations would be seriously damaged by it, and even led to a jail disaster.

"If his family knew about it, how sad they would be? They sent him here to learn, not to selling his body, right?" Victor still murmured sadly, then squatted down to help Sherlock picking his things up and put them back to places.

Sherlock sneered, turned back, ignored Victor. A thought was rising on his mind - could make the family sad? It would be a lot of fun - could he have a chance to sell his body, to provoke Mycroft? Sherlock was so excited with the idea running through his mind that could make Mycroft furious, he was so eager to try.

However, Sherlock remembered his indifference towards sex. A boarding school was a place which full of young flesh and sexual temptations, it was difficult for adolescents to control themselves. Sherlock felt like he was strolling in the Wildlife Park in everyday lives, seeing the boys became primitive animal beasts which just let the instinct blindly drove them - a bunch of simple-minded idiots that let the hormones dominating their mind, let the lower part of their bodies ruling their heads - that's why he had been extremely disdained for sex. He concerned his rational mind as his playground where was more interesting than many things in the world.

But that was the case in school, would the sex in the society of adults world still that boring? Apart from the low-intelligence peers and hypocritical wily old birds, would there have anyone whose intelligence matching Sherlock, and could play a sex game with him? Would explore other possibilities?

Sherlock could not help but think of what happened in the car seat: the gentle hand which was good at caressing, the hunter's smile, and those incredible blue eyes. He remembered John Watson the stranger. Thought of the feelings when he touched Sherlock, the raising temperature inside the car, the reaction Sherlock made at that moment...

Underneath his trousers he seemed to respond half-erectly, Sherlock was baffled and touched himself - This had never happened, he never let the lower part of his body ruled his head.

He closed his eyes, put his hand on his lap, and redid how John touching him, feeling more intense. An unfamiliar desire arose spontaneously, the temperature was raising, a lust he never experienced dried his mouth. He let go of his hand, bursting with fear, afraid that he would be out of control just like those animal-like peers. He hesitated, to revenge on Mycroft, he should try this pleasure of indulgence?

* * *

"Sherlock, the school bell rang, don't be late on the first day!" They were walking on the corridor from the dormitory to the classroom building, Victor holding two copies of notes and textbooks, urging Sherlock to walk faster.

"You go to the classroom first." Sherlock simply left a command and walked away. With a stamp of his foot, Victor could do nothing but go to the class on his own.

Sherlock made a detour to the backyard. He liked to sneak into the janitor's house while the janitor was gone to work, so he could read the fresh newspaper from there and see whether there were any interesting murders that would cure his boredom. The class was too boring, he already learned all the things in the textbooks by himself. Besides, his seat was on the corner of the classroom, no one would notice his absent, Victor always took attendance for him.

Sherlock holding the door handle, was about to enter the house, but was disturbed by the horn. He turned and saw the black car was parked outside the fence, the man's silhouette showed on the window gauze,.

Sherlock stepped forwards curiously, stopping at the fence and staring at the man. John Watson opened the door and came out, looking at Sherlock who just bit his lips subconsciously but had not looked away from his gaze. John moved forwards and came to the other side of the fence.

They separated by the fence, not saying a word but just gazing each other, as if playing a game.

John could not bear anymore, reaching the railing, frowned and said, "Listen, I..."

Sherlock reached for the fence, fingertips gently touched John's hand, John silenced. John puzzled and looked at him, guessing his intentions. Sherlock suddenly grabbed John's collar by the other hand and pulled him forward, the two became so close but still separated by railing, and those lips were only two inches apart. John's eyes swayed between Sherlock's eyes and lips, and his breath was unstable.

"Captain Watson," Sherlock whispered his deep voice whistling through John's ear, "to go visit nearby?"

"Yes," John closed his eyes and swallowed. When he opened his eyes, he saw Sherlock's burning gaze, and could not help but knead his hand, "should be going now..."

"Will I see you again?" He saw Sherlock's longing.

"Of course." John shared the same will.

"See you later ..." Sherlock whispered, and his lips seemed nearly to touch John's. Then he left.

John watched Sherlock disappearing behind the house door, feeling completely fascinated by the mysterious teenager.

* * *

As dusk fell, Sherlock walked back to the dormitory, on the way he casually glancing towards to the fence, did not see the car.

In the following few days, Sherlock always gazed to the railing side when passing by. Every time a car appeared, he caught a glimpse but never was the black car that carrying the significant one.

* * *

This day, Sherlock came to the shower at non-peak hours as usual - he just did not like the crowding during the rush hour, the lack of privacy was unbearable and disgusting.

He hung the clean clothes, pulled the shower curtains, opened the shower-heads, and let the water slide down from the top to his body. This moment was the time he spent in his mind palace.

"Hush~" but someone bothered him.

"Oh..." who was hiding in the last grid?

"Well..." no, not one person, was two.

"Ah... ah ah..." "Uh-oh..." panting mixed with groans. Obviously, two students were having an affair here where they thought was an unmanned shower.

It was not the first time that Sherlock encountered this kind of things. In the past, he was extremely disgusted with such activities, only found it unclean and dirty, thought it was a beast-styled unwise behavior. He would wash quickly and sharp left at the time, as he had no interest eavesdropping someone else private affairs. But today, he looked down at himself and found he half- erected.

Heat climbed up his cheeks, neck and upper body, he felt that he must now be covered with redness. But all could not compare to the trembly feeling from his lower body that made him feel so helpless.

The puff of one student reminded him of John Watson. He began to fantasize that the moaning one is himself. Behind the shower curtain, hugged doing the ulterior affair, he and John Watson.

His hand stroked his cock tentatively, feeling more pleasure, but at the same time desired more. He stroked himself with those two's panting rhythm, and closed his eyes to pretend that it was John. He would let John touch him, let him caress his private parts, let him give himself a thrill of excitement, let him release his hidden desires...

With a whimper, Sherlock shot in his own hand and leaned against the wall. Masturbation In the shower, this was his first time, but he expected that it would not be the last time. And his fantasy, might come true one day.


	3. His Apartment

It was a school holiday and many students went home. On this dormitory floor, only left Sherlock, Victor and a few nerds who preferring studied in their room during a holiday. Victor said he wanted to go out with Sherlock and suggested go swimming to the nearby beach. Sherlock was bored, thought that Victor's suggestion might be a good try.

They went along the school fence, intended to sneak away from the back door, otherwise, they would need to fill in an application form and it caused so much trouble. Sherlock stared at the fence as if he had been offended by the rails - yes, the damned Captain Watson hadn't been hearing for almost a week.

When Sherlock swearing in his mind, the black car greeted, just parked at their destination - the back door of the gate.

Is he waiting for me? Sherlock stopped, confused.

"What's the matter?" Victor asked.

"Ah, I forgot!" Sherlock made up a lie. "I have an appointment with my brother."

"What? Your nasty brother?"

"Sorry, I can't go swimming with you," Sherlock said, and then he climbed over the gate easily, waved goodbye to Victor across the gates, then got into the black car.

John Watson was sitting in the back seat waiting for him, he smiled at Sherlock.

* * *

On the road, they did not speak, but both mouths curved up.

The car then drove into the urban areas, streets gradually bustling, the noisy crowd just coming and going busily.

"You can leave us at the junction," John said to the driver.

"Happy holiday, Captain!" After they got out, the driver finished the sentence and drove the car away.

They went into the market crowd.

"Have you ever been here?" John watched Sherlock absorbing the fresh things around him curiously. "Seems you haven't."

"Is here the place where the soldiers like to hang around?" Sherlock stared at the flirtatious ladies they saw frequently on the way and those obscene men who had been around them. "I see, here is Shek Tong Tsui."

"Good observation."

"So here is the famous red light district, maybe the soldiers' favourite place?" Sherlock disdained and scoffed, "Lonely soldiers far away from home, seeking prostitutes to comfort their lost souls."

"Indeed, many soldiers really doing this, but not included me." John smiled and looked at Sherlock, "I don't use money to buy sex."

"really?" Sherlock doubted.

"I only bring a willing person into my bed." John led Sherlock across a road, turned into an alley, left the lively main street. "l took you here, just happened to be my room nearby."

"You don't live in barracks?" Sherlock answered himself. "Oh, I see, it's your private love hotel. Indeed, It's more convenient."

"You can call it my apartment," said John, brought Sherlock upstairs to a shabby building. "Other soldiers like clubs, love hotels, something like that, but I more concern about cleanness and privacy."

They stopped at the door of 221b, John opened the door and Sherlock followed him into the apartment.

Sherlock looked around, finding there was a double-sized bed in the middle of the room, and some simple items of furniture were putting around, the setting just like a hotel room, but more simple. And the place was dark, the sunlight was blocked by the curtains.

"Your apartment recently greeted some British ladies, one or two?" Sherlock eyed the luxury silk stockings which be left in the sofa gap, and then glimpsed the lipstick sticking on the cigarette butts which laying in the ashtray, "Silk stockings belonged to a smoking woman? Or the smoking one is another lady?"

"Seems you don't like women?" John smiled and sat down.

"Seems you like them very much." Sherlock ridiculed with a smirk.

"I like you more." Under John's gaze, Sherlock felt that there was not enough oxygen in the room - his eyes could show that Sherlock was the most interesting and worthwhile thing in the world. "Do you often do this? Follow a stranger back to their place?"

"No, this is the first time." Sherlock shrugged as it was not a big deal.

"What?" John did not expect that and stood up hesitantly, "then...we could come back next time." He reached for the key, implying that they were leaving.

"No," Sherlock stopped him. "It's ok."

John frowned. "But have you ever done this before? You are just a student and I am a stranger."

"It doesn't matter, do it according to your usual habits, as you do to other women or men." Sherlock looked at John with a proud and unyielding expression.

John stared at him hesitantly, slowly approached him while studying his mind. Sherlock did not retreat a single pace, even took a step forward when John stopped.

"You really want to do it?"

"Yup."

John stared at Sherlock closely and fascinating by his enticing green eyes, his fingertips depicting Sherlock's cheekbone. Sherlock never tried to breathe the breath of another person at such a distance, he trembled and closed his eyes. John saw his vibrating eyelashes, the hand on his cheek started shaking.

"I'm afraid I will fall in love with you," John whispered.

"Don't." Sherlock opened his eyes. "I'd rather you don't love me." He gripped John's hand and guided it to the top button of his shirt.

John was fascinated looking at him, unlocked his buttons one by one, slipped his shirt and his belt off, took off his trousers, squatted to take off his shoes and socks for him, and finally took off his only left white cotton pants. John brought the naked Sherlock to the bed gently, let him lie down, and then stroked his chest and sensitive pink nipples softly. Sherlock closed his eyes and shook.

"I can't." John turned round. "You have no experience at all, and you are too young... I..." He closed his eyes.

Sherlock then sat up and hugged his nose to John, his lips parted as if he wanted to kiss, but only wandered around John. His hand touched John's panting chest, groping for his buttons, unlocked one after another, he took off his shirt, stroked and kissed the stranger's skin. John lay down feeling his jerky caressing, breathing heavily. Sherlock closed his eyes and stroked down his unbuttoned trousers, for the first time he touched the hair of an adult other than himself, for the first time he touched John's desiring prick.

John moaned under Sherlock's touching, and then he sat up and pushed Sherlock's shoulders, pressed him into the mattress and covered him with his whole body. Sherlock twisted back into the middle of the bed, John followed, chasing his lips, kissing his skin. Sherlock panted, feeling he could not parry.

John took off the rest of his clothes and then pressed against Sherlock fiercely, let the boy's legs separate to accommodate him. Sherlock saw the burning desire in John's eyes, feeling how hungrily he stroked his thighs, and then he stopped breathing while he felt something that came to his most intimate body part.

"Relax," John whispered softly in his ear and kissed his ear. "Let me in." He took the bottle on the bedside table, painted some paste on his own hand, and then put them on Sherlock's opening and massaged into it.

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to relax and let John's fingers in. Under John's gentle stroking, the uncomfortable feeling of invading was fading out. Sherlock's chest was flushed, looking at John confusingly and lustfully. John slowly stroked more fingers in, eyes were still inseparable from Sherlock, watching him twisting and panting under his massage, fascinating by his messy and sweaty curls, indulging in his swollen and moist lips as a result of his biting and sucking, that made John irresistible to kiss it again and to swallow Sherlock's loudly moaning. John's fingers kept pounding inside Sherlock and brushed against the spot, pleased to see Sherlock spinning out of control and groaning just for him. Sherlock stroked his erection and sounded in a hoarse voice, "Now."

Then Sherlock stared wide-eyed at John, stopped breathing - he felt how John's cock penetrated into him inch by inch; he felt how hot and hard were John, and how his shape was fit in his body.

They stared at each other, not willing to turn the eye. John struggled to crush slowly into Sherlock's virgin opening, it was tight, and he could feel every contraction inside his body. Sherlock could only try to hold John's back, stroking his arm, and stretching his legs as wide as possible, he had no effort to do other things.

Sherlock's erection kept rubbing between their bellies and finally released. Feeling the tightening contraction around his cock, John shot into Sherlock's body after two more strokes. He was sweaty and fell down onto Sherlock, they both breathing heavily as if the whole world did not have enough oxygen.

Then John turned and lay beside Sherlock, falling into sleep as exhausted. Sherlock lay soberly and still dealing with the massive information that squeezed into his head. Those stimulating sensory reactions needed to be categorised and saved into his mind palace. He made a catalogue called "sex" for these materials, he glanced John and then changed the name to "sex with John".

It was this man, John Watson, who brought the sex experience to Sherlock - a brand new experience. Sherlock lowered his head and examined himself, he found John's sperm flowing out slowly from his opening, when he poked it with his finger it flowed out more, but still remained many inside. And the strange feeling of fullness was still here, but the feeling of emptiness after John's departure seemed weirder to Sherlock. He did not find how could it related to his heart, it was clear that there was no direct connection, but his heart felt weird and seemed to be missing something, and it seemed something had changed. When he finished studying himself, he started to study John, carefully looking at the naked man lying beside him, remembering every detail of his body, observing his every hair and every slightly breathing change.

He saw John still closing his eyes, but leaning forward and reached for Sherlock in his sleep. John hugged him and buried his face into Sherlock's neck, rubbing his ears, murmured, "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing." Sherlock just turned his eyes and staring at the ceiling.

* * *

The apartment did not have shower facilities. John contained a large pot of hot water for Sherlock, let him stand in the dish, sprinkled him with a water spoon to help him washing his body clean. Out of the doctor's habit, he checked his opening carefully, to make sure Sherlock had not been hurt.

"Pain?" John naked squatted on the ground, asked while wiping Sherlock's lower body.

"No." Sherlock just gently leant against John's shoulder and stood quietly.

"Any uncomfortable feeling?"

"A bit weird."

"Because it is the first time? Or because of being penetrated?"

"I don't know. Not enough data to analyse."

John was amused by the serious expression of Sherlock, thought that this boy was really different, weird but very attractive.

* * *

After both of them washed, they lay in the bed again, only covered with a thin sheet, bodies were still naked.

"You only shagged me to collect data?" John was curious.

"I don't know. A part of reasons I think, I like you too." Sherlock shrugged.

"Did you like someone else?"

"Rare." Sherlock tried to recall. "I think no. Most people are dull, they do boring things all the time, all are idiots."

"I am so honoured to be classified to the non-boring part." John smiled and moved a little bit closer, stroking Sherlock's arm. "So you think sex is interesting or boring?"

"Well..." Sherlock considered seriously and then turned to John. "I don't know. There has not enough data to analyse."

John moved closer to Sherlock, fiddling with his curls, caressing his face, stared at him, "Want some more data?"

Sherlock stroked John's hand, they rubbed against each other, "the more the better." He turned and let John kiss his cheek, and then he led John's hand sliding on his body and reached to his half-erected. John's hand rubbed and caressed it above the sheets, and then he left Sherlock's hand to stroke his thighs, to uncover the thin sheets above his skin. Sherlock hugged him and let him kiss his lips and neck. John's hands were not idle, kept touching and playing with Sherlock's legs, separated them and laid between them.

John sucked Sherlock's mouth, his chest, his clavicle, and his wet warm lips sliding all over Sherlock's body, only let Sherlock held him tight while panting and moaning. Sherlock felt John inside him again, so much easier than the previous one, and he clutched the man who shagging him hard, could not do anything but sweating and groaning. Both of them were lost in the pleasure of lust, forgetting everything except sex.

* * *

When they finished, they only lay naked without a word. John sat against the headboard to light a cigarette, Sherlock just leant against him and looking at the emptiness. At this moment, the sunlight had been nearly gone, the room with no lights soon would be swallowed by the dark shadow. John smoked, then he put the cigarette to Sherlock's mouth, so Sherlock smoked.

"You know, you will miss this," John said while smoking.

"Will I?"

"Even you have forgotten my looks and my name by then."

"Would I?" Sherlock was looking for John's silhouette in the dark, but his face almost melted into the shadows. Sherlock watching the lighted cigarette had moved closer to him, so he opened his mouth and sucked it again.

The smells in the darkness, smoke mixed with the taste of semen and sex - I think I will remember it, Sherlock thought.

* * *

After that, Sherlock followed John leaving the 221B apartment and returning to the bustling street.

Pedestrians became more and much more complex than in daytime while most were going to visit the red light district, visitors included traffickers, pawns, sailors, soldiers, rich guys and dignitaries, mixed with the smells of smokes, sweats and colognes, made Sherlock frowned. John glanced at his expression, smiled and held his hand, pulled him out of this mess by running away with him.

John brought him to the tram station and took a tram, they picked the upper compartment where not many passengers, the breeze blowing in, just diluted the unwelcome smelling. Sherlock appreciated the breezy night, John's hand was on his thigh - Sherlock felt it still very unreal, he just had sex with this stranger sitting beside him, he did not know how this happen but it really happened. He thought of Mycroft and the expression on his face when he knew what happened this afternoon, he suddenly had a good mood, expecting such a good thing would come one after another.

* * *

They got off, then walked for awhile, here was not so crowded, feeling much better.

"Do you like Chinese food?"

"Hadn't tried."

"Living in Hong Kong but hadn't tried Chinese food?

Then John brought Sherlock to a Chinese restaurant, ordered a full table of dishes and taught Sherlock how to eat with chopsticks.

"This is the principle of leverage, it's clever." Sherlock practised with chopsticks to pick, push, clip, screw, poke and other usages, John was amazed.

"You learn very fast! I practised almost a month to have learned it, and the posture even not standard."

"But eating like this, the food must be chopped into small pieces." Look around at other tables, Sherlock added, "Chinese used to share foods like this? Is it hygienic to share foods from the same dishes?"

"They like the lively atmosphere." John grinned and lowered his voice, "We just exchanged our bodily fluids, would you mind eating my saliva?" He picked a piece of chicken to Sherlock's bowl.

Sherlock's ears turned red, lowered his head and ate it with a smile.

"Fuck off! You dirty thing son of the bitch, Such a shameless sissy! Don't even try to sell your service in my restaurant! Get out!"

A loud blame took Sherlock's attention - he saw the restaurant owner driving a sissy boy to leave his place.

"What happened?" John could not understand their language. "You speak Cantonese?"

Sherlock shook his head, but squinted for a moment, explained, "Obviously, the restaurant owner doesn't like the young man, thought that he would affect his business. It indicated that the young man was not coming for eating, he might want to sell his own business here. But he doesn't look like a snacks seller. If he's not a competitor, why the restaurant owner was so angry? What business is he doing? Moreover, he is so young..."

"I think he is a prostitute." John lowered his voice.

"What?" Sherlock stunned.

"I had been on this street and somebody tried to sell services to me." He kept his voice down.

"Did you buy it?"

"No."

"Yup, you said you don't buy sex. But why the ladies in Shek Tong Tsui is allowed to do business openly, no one blamed them; while this boy can only go into hiding and do it secretly? Why can't he do his business as open as the women?"

John laughed. He looked around carefully and then used his most light voice, "Have you heard the crime of gross indecency?"

Sherlock shook his head.

John explained the Labouchere Amendment in the volume that could not be heard by the nearby tables, that how male homosexuals would be prosecuted by the crime of gross indecency in the United Kingdom and its colonials, no matter that sexual relationship between the two men had an agreement or not, had or hadn't involved money, be done openly or privately, all would be prosecuted as serious crimes, and would be sentencing to punish once found.

Perhaps the most insulting part was that the law equated the sodomy with the bestiality, said that those crimes were equally evil.

Sherlock hearing it wide-eyed, did not understand why the lawmaker could be so illogical that equated the relationship between two humans to animal sex? Although he always knew how his schoolmates avoided talking about homosexuals, he just thought it was caused by the social atmosphere, that it crossed the line of the moralist's restricted areas. He only thought serious items such as adultery, underage sex, sex at improper places (such as school), prostitution, indecent and rape, those things would be considered as crimes. He never knew such an unreasonable law had always existed in his homeland and its colonies.

"So..." Sherlock looked at John and lowered his voice under John's instructions, "we just broke this damn law?"

"Sh~" John put his finger on his lips, said jokingly, "Don't tell anybody." Then winked at Sherlock.

Sherlock tried to smile and swallowed it.

* * *

That night, Sherlock stole back to the school dormitory, lying down without changing clothes, pretended to fell asleep when Victor spoke with him. Nevertheless, he could not sleep at all, his stomach aching with a strange twisted feeling, it was weird, he was never like this before.


	4. Lust

Sherlock dawdled in school the whole morning, doing nothing but wait until the time he would meet John by appointment. He sneaked out school and walked for awhile, took the bus and then tram, hurried through a number of narrow lanes, finally reached the shabby building. He rushed up the stairs to the 221b apartment, when he was going to ring the bell, John could not wait to open the door and bring Sherlock in and then shut the door quickly.

At the doorway, they could not help but kiss and stroke each other with the greatest possible expedition, breathing, groaning and wetly sucking resounded throughout the room, Sherlock urging to unbuckle his belt while John pushing him against the wall and caressing him greedily. After Sherlock got rid of his own trousers, he reached for John's bathrobe which was the only piece of cloth covering him. John slipped Sherlock's school uniform off, revealed his skin that already flushed with excitement, and John kissed it hungrily and left love bites on it.

They ripped off each other's clothes with the fastest speed, then the two flesh rubbed against each other with kisses and strokes. John's skilful hands teased over Sherlock's sensitive nipples and then slid down to his thighs and turned to Sherlock's buttocks. Sherlock's prick crushed against John's, that rubbing made him groaned and stood unsteadily on his feet. John took the opportunity to put Sherlock down on the ground, pressed against him and reached for the bottle of ointment which was inside his bathrobe's pocket, then slid his fingers with ointment into Sherlock's delicate buttocks and massaged into his opening which made him crazy. Sherlock gasping while be twisted around by John's little finger, John kissed Sherlock's prick while pounding inside him with excitement, that made Sherlock trembled and whimpered. John watching the flush climbing up Sherlock's cheeks, seeing him struggling to breathe under his sweaty messy curls, he just entangled with Sherlock's body and did not release him while Sherlock seemed struggling backwards to try to get away from John's trapping.

John stroked into two fingers, Sherlock's desires were burning and begging for more. So John lowered his head to suck Sherlock's cock, sliding up and down and let his saliva moistening it. Sherlock opened his mouth and lost his voice, exuding the excitement of lust. Three fingers shuttling inside his body, and being surrounded by the wet warm lips, Sherlock felt like fell into a furnace which made by sweat and heat, completely lost his mind with the dizzy feeling.

When Sherlock losing in the upside-down world, John's fingers retreated and replaced by his cock, and thrust inside Sherlock hardly. The two connecting bodies tangled on the floor, John's pounding draw the momentum of them moving from the doorway to the centre of the room. John buried himself hard into Sherlock, harder and harder in every thrust as if he were going to get into Sherlock's heart, to become one with him. Sherlock braced himself for the pounding, the pleasure made him forgotten the hard cold floor behind him, he only felt the breath and the heat of the man who laid on him, and the dazzling sense of satisfaction because of the deeply connection they were forming.

They reached their climaxes through the fierce shagging. Sherlock could not do anything but laid on the ground with his chest undulating. John still wanting more, he kissed Sherlock's mouth, sucked his neck where he could sense the strong pulse beating, his wet lips slid on his chest leaving watermarks, and then he kissed his abdomen and his pubic hair, gently tasted his soften penis, and then he laid down beside Sherlock finally, stretching his limbs, breathing heavily with Sherlock.

They just naked laid in the mess, thirsting for the salvation of oxygen, no one could say a word for a long time.

* * *

After the intense sex, accompanied by tired and whole body soreness, even Sherlock was the night owl who need not sleep usually, dozed off inevitably during his classroom test.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

When Miss Woodhouse shouted the name of Sherlock while wearing a very serious expression, Victor sincerely worried for him.

"Yes." sleepy Sherlock looked at Miss Woodhouse and confusing where he was.

"As always, your grades are the best of the class." Miss Woodhouse looked at Sherlock with great excitement, returning the last week's test paper to him, still revelling in the fantasy of vanity that the good performance of Sherlock was a result of being her student. It was such a relief for Victor that Sherlock had not been punished anyway.

Sherlock just left the hateful papers on the desk, made a gesture that looked like he was holding his head to pretend to look down, and then sunk into the sweet dreams.

* * *

That night, John brought Sherlock to the Typhoon Shelter to taste the fried crabs.

They both knew their relationship could only be carried out secretly, there was no future for them, so they did not talk about that by understanding, just had anything they could have now. Otherwise, they could discuss each other's state of love life and marriage status in a more relax way.

"She's just a simple girl who teaching in our village's elementary school," John picked a piece of food into Sherlock's bowl while talking about his fiancee Mary who was living in England right now. "Our engagement is settled a long time ago, she is a daughter of a distant relative ."

"Do you love her?" Sherlock asked curiously, chewing his mouthful of food.

John shrugged, "I don't think it's any kind of romantic love, having no intense feelings between us, I like her but it's more like a sibling-like relationship." He picked up the glass, sipped his wine. "Her parents died early, my parents brought her to our home to live with us, they both adore her very much. After she engaged to me, she can stay there taking care of them by my fiancee's identity. Marrying her is more like a promise and a responsibility, and make my parents' dream come true as they always want a daughter. After all, I leave home all the time, and my bigger brother is a useless drunk, Mary is already their greatest comforted appearing."

"It's not like you, I thought you are an uninhibited guy or some kind of cynical playboy something like that." Sherlock pouted with disdain.

John laughed, "I think we should get enjoyment out of our games, but after all, we have responsibility for our families, which is a man's duty." It seemed that Sherlock did not agree. "Don't you think your family will find you a matched one? Look at you, studying in an aristocratic boarding school, wearing high quality expensive casual clothes, you know your family will never let you choose a nonmatched person."

Sherlock stunned - he did not even think about these things, just a moment ago, he had felt disdainful about sex or love.

"Don't understand why we must get married." Sherlock frowned, really did not understand. "As I don't understand why I must go to school, I have already learned by myself."

"It's responsibility," John said while eating. "As a student, you should go to school; as an adult, you should get married and have children. This is a way to achieve our social responsibility. "

Sherlock watching John talked about his responsibility as if it's so normal, but he knew that John was not so bearing in mind as he showed, John just let himself following the social norms without thinking. It was like Sherlock had no concept about his graduated future, he only knew that everyone must went to school, and then graduated, and then would find a boring job, to earn money so that they could get married and had children, formed a boring family, and let this suffocating stupid behavior cycling forever...

* * *

In the middle of the night, Sherlock was secretly reading a thick volume under the moonlight, by the dormitory windowsill - he was studying the Annals of Crime Archives, the cases he recently studying was all about murders involved love.

Eros was one of the most primitive desires of mankind and was a common motive for serious crimes. Why the feeling and the sex between people would lead to such a complicated ripple effect, bringing such a serious lethality? Sherlock wanted to figure out the logic inside it but found that there was no such a formula could solve the mystery.

Why things involved love would turn to this chaos? Those data be collected within him and John's "experiment", would it help him to do his research? For example, whenever he thought of Mary, why his heart would have an uncomfortable burning feeling? Did the love's criminals have the same feeling when they started their crimes? Was this feeling driving them to commit crimes? Sherlock thought he still did not have enough data to analyse...

* * *

It was a gloomy afternoon, after sex, John sleeping naked in bed. Sherlock did not put on any clothes, just walking around naked in the apartment, as if they returned to the Garden of Eden, wouldn't scruple to appear in the natural state because it was so normal and beautiful. Sherlock was checking the progress of his experiment - he already moved his researches and experiments from dormitory to here, the experimental equipment and books had occupied John's table, chair and part of the floor. This was only the visible physical changing.

For the spiritual changing, they both occupied all the leisure hours of each other's, they became their partner's focus. When there was no need to on shift or went to school, they would come here, using all the time to occupy each other's body, turned themselves to be their partner's habits, let the other one be hooked and be addictive.

Sherlock found himself and John both like that feeling - they both addicted to thrilling adventures, that's why John became a soldier and Sherlock was a bad student who habitually played truant - a taboo relationship got their adrenaline going, to challenge the social norms excited them so much and made them more indulgent to this relationship.

After recorded the progress of the experiment, Sherlock climbed back to the bed, his fingers lingering caressed John's clavicle and chest, his lips hang around John's cheeks, nose, tongue and lips, John just half-awake and responded lazily. They were already familiar with each other's body, habits and preferences. Sherlock slid on top and rode his lover, leant over and kissed him, let their bodies softly rubbed against each other. John clenched Sherlock's lovely buttocks, caressing and feeling it. After a few french kisses, Sherlock sat up and slowly sank his body, let his opening wrapped around John's cock, John groaned with his eyes closed, but then insisted on opening his eyes so he could watch Sherlock, admiring him to fuck himself by John's cock, slowly and indulgent. John liked to see Sherlock moaned because of him, liked to touch the sweaty body which silvering because of sex, liked to use his palms to slide on Sherlock's skin when he concentrated fucking himself, liked to depict his body's curves and textures.

Sherlock gradually accelerating, closed his eyes and let himself lost in the joy of sex. John held his waist, raising his upper body to press against Sherlock's hot and sweaty body. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, sitting on and riding him, they shagging hard with each other. Sherlock's voice was broken, they fucked harder and harder, John pushed Sherlock down to the bed, leant over him and fucked him into the mattress, Sherlock could only gasp under John's thrustings, cried out helplessly with his broken voice.

* * *

A wonderful natural symphony had been composed by sweat, flesh and moans, became the main theme of their time by then. Beyond the imagination of intimacy, they were just a perfect match that had a tacit understanding, it had been growing by the time they shared in the little apartment, and also by the exciting adventures they experienced outside.

They tried naked swimming in the middle of the night at the Repulse Bay, surrounding by gentle waters under the moonlight, limbs intertwined with water caressing, kissing passionately. After they landed, they snuggled down into the boat on the beach, making out inside the narrow hull. Then they were found by some nosy visitors. They rushed to run away from the scoldings, still naked with full hands of clothes, kept running until they found a corner of the wall where could hide them perfectly, then they burst out laughing. After that, they hid in the dressing room to continue making out. John held Sherlock up with his strong arms and entered him from below. Sherlock could only hold on to the wall behind him and let John kept thrusting inside his body, and John had to shut Sherlock's mouth with his hand to prevent his cries would attract the attention of passers-bys again. They both loved this exciting experience.

They tried to borrow a car from John's troop and drove it to the barren landscape of the Peak, lying on the picnic rug, shagging under the starry sky. Being a part of the universe, covered by the sky and leant on the earth, Sherlock was fascinated by that primitive feeling - as if back to the beginning of the Genesis, everything in the primitive state, the first time humans discovered the fun of shagging; as if it's a scientist's field trip, he supposed to be here to observe the behaviour of the stars and other objects in space, but he took the time to make love with his lover instead.

Sherlock tried to bring John back to school on a holiday night, sneaked with him into the unmanned school library, let John shag him from behind in front of the bookshelves of his favourite section where contained chemical books, then laid on the long desk in the study area and let John fuck him hard over it.

When Victor was back to home on vacation, John tried holding Sherlock in his arms and sleeping with him in his dormitory's single bed. That night, John woke up by the heat from his lower body, he found that his prick was wrapping around by Sherlock's warm wet lips, Sherlock 's fingers already painted with paste and wanted to touch his buttocks.

"May I?" Sherlock's voice revealed his desire. John could see from his eyes that how much Sherlock wanted to have him, the eagerness was so hot that just could burn anything, it made John's knees trembling and dried his throat.

"ok." though John was a little bit scared, he turned and raised his bottom for Sherlock. He looked back at Sherlock and smiled, "You are the first."

When John was ready, they lay sideways side by side, Sherlock clung to John from his back and pushed - Sherlock entered John, felt that he was inside him now, and that feeling shocked both of them - Although John was a bisexual veteran, he never do this with any other person, but let Sherlock have his first time, be the first who penetrated him. This was a remarkable event for both of them.

The shagging was extremely tender, on the narrow single bed, Sherlock clung tightly to John, thrust slowly in and out of him and fascinated, felt that they had becoming one, both opened themselves unconditionally to each other.

The happiness of these days let Sherlock have an illusion, thought that they might keep going in this way. Like they could sublet a similar apartment as this one, told the world they were just two bachelors who wanted to share a rent by economic reason so became roommates, and continue to play each other's lover behind the door. However, this was only Sherlock's whimsy, the idea was stored in the corner of the mind palace, under the exclusive file of John. He knew that John might be passionate to thrilling adventures and was addicted to running risks with Sherlock, but he was also a man with a high sense of morality and a very strict discipline, otherwise he would not be a soldier. John loved the secular society, he was stubbornly perseverance, he would continue to follow the social norms, be a responsible man. That was why Sherlock's fantastic idea had never been spoken out.


	5. Wrestling

After dinner, Sherlock found a black car had been parked near the school gate. It had been a long absence of, Sherlock thought John might want to give him a surprise - since they had been met up at the apartment regularly, the black car was seldom seen, John was not a man who liked abusing his position after all.

But when Sherlock getting closer, he found it something was going wrong - it was too much publicity to be parked in front of the front door, and it was simply another black car that Sherlock had never seen, only looked similar to John's ride.

The car door was opened suddenly, Sherlock stared at the person who was coming out - turned out to be his roommate Victor Trevor who wearing a scared look on his face, and even avoiding eye contact with Sherlock, just passed Sherlock with a taut face, backed to the dormitory with a guilty conscience.

"Sherlock, come up." Mycroft's emotionless voice spoke from the car.

Sherlock suddenly felt a burst of fury, he held his breath, only to avoid a bruising encounter broke out immediately. After a deep breath, he reluctantly got on the car. As far as the door closed, Mycroft sneered.

"God, having an affair with a soldier, Sherlock? Are you kidding me?" Mycroft said with his favourite dramatic mocking tone.

Being treated with scorn and ridicule by Mycroft, Sherlock just tried to suppress his annoyance, clenched his fists. "Victor doesn't know anything. What did he tell you?"

"Don't think that only you can observe, your roommate is smarter than what you imagine. At the beginning, there was a black car which would come to pick you up, then you carried on truanting and sneaked out alone, did not go back to sleep in the dormitory at night... when the dormitory was unmanned someone would come to accompany you, and would leave some blonde hairs and a 'dog tag' which only for military personnel." Mycroft stared at him coldly. "Look, the emotion would make a real mess of your brain, the proudest part of you now turned into shit."

Sherlock bit his lip, but could not find a word to refute - these days he did be careless, his rational mind often replaced by the fevered mind, too much time and energy occupied by John, he could not even erase him from his mind for a moment.

"Ha, where is my eloquent brother gone? You used to say that your great brain was for doing great things, I just know that surrendered to your lower body is such a great thing?"

Sherlock was lost in Mycroft's questions, he suddenly felt thoroughly ashamed of himself - Mycroft was to the point, he surrendered to his lower body now, doing nothing all day long but sex, his mind was wasted. At first, he thought this kind of rebellion could provoke Mycroft and got his revenge on him. But his over-indulgence in it now had long been beyond a mischief, wanting to humiliate others, but the result was just more to be ashamed, Sherlock now reduced as a sex addict, even lost himself for the game.

"We're just friends," Sherlock said coldly, that were the only words he could think of.

"Are you?" Mycroft gave a contemptuous laugh. "Hope you could say it to Mummy during the Christmas dinner of this year."

" Mummy?" Sherlock stunned and stared at Mycroft. "Did she come to Hong Kong?"

"Gather a family reunion for Christmas is quite normal," Mycroft said it like announcing a national policy by the government bureau.

"When did she has her responsibility as a normal mother?" Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Now she's going to compensate, Sherlock," Mycroft frowned, "She will arrive the day after tomorrow, and will take you back to England when your semester ends."

"Back to England? Why?" Sherlock felt a chill.

"Do you know that the war between China and Japan had been broken out for some time ago? The war has been spreading and may come to Hong Kong."

There would be a war? So John would go to the battlefield? The first thing Sherlock could think of was John making him more angry with himself.

"Will you go back to England, too?"

"To be honest, the international situation is very unstable at the moment, I'm not sure what is the next move." Mycroft looked gloomy. "It's still safe here for staying a few more months," he squinted at Sherlock, smiled. "so that you could bid an appropriate farewell to your 'friend'."

Bid farewell to John? Sherlock knew it was inevitable, but never thought about it seriously, nor thought it would be so soon and sudden.

Mycroft patted Sherlock's thighs, suddenly revealing the rare brotherhood. "You've grown up, should understand that the world is not rational as you thought? Sometimes the order would turn into a mess, sometimes the passion will cover the sense. No one is perfect, things are not black or white, grey is the norm. "

Sherlock could not figure out what his brother was trying to say.

"It might be good for you to have some experiences, but don't take it too seriously, just for fun," Mycroft smirked with a hateful expression.

"What are you trying to imply? We're really just friends."

"Well, I'm glad that you finally made a 'friend'. I thought your 'friend' Captain Watson would be too pathetic celebrating Christmas alone in a foreign land, so I invited him to participate in our dinner, I hope it won't make you feel presumptuous."

* * *

Sherlock pouted and went back to the dorm, just wanted to kill Mycroft and Victor a thousand times in his mind. He wanted himself focus to be angry and kept cursing those two bastards, then he would have no time to think about John, to think about the chaotic and unlawful relationship they were having, to imagine they would part in a near future.

He pushed the door, returned to the dark room, did not want to turn on the lights, just lying back to his bed quietly.

He thought Victor was not here because the lamp was not lit, and he thought Victor would be embarrassed to see him so Victor would try to avoid him. But he heard some noise coming from the neighbouring bed, some friction sound of the fabrics, and some heavy rapid breaths - a total of two breathing sounds, two people were lying in that bed.

Panting and groaning - it was too obvious to Sherlock now, that what kind of things these noises meant to be.

"Rio, just slow down a bit..." Victor's hoarse voice came from the sheets.

"I am sorry…"

The lustful sipping sounds were accompanied by groanings, and then the couple snickering.

"Will your roommate expose us?" Rio whispered.

"How could he be? He has no friends!" Victor replied quietly, then suddenly turned and asked, "Sherlock, would you mind?"

Sherlock just stared at the dark ceiling, and said in a hateful voice, "go on."

No matter how dark it was, Sherlock absolutely knew what they were doing and how to do it by the sounds. As a bystander, he deeply felt how distasteful and disgusting about this kind of thing, indulging in the pleasures of the flesh, the dirty lustful sounds, became primitive beasts which just let the instinct blindly drove them. Although he covered himself with the sheets, the image of two naked bodies twisted together still disturbed him so much, and the horrible lustful sounds resounded everywhere - were he and John's making love was also like that? Just had been an opportunity to give vent to their beast-like lust? Was it meaningless, just a waste of time?

"Oh-oh-oh..." Rio's screamings were really annoying.

Sherlock imagined his own voice during sex, was it as nasty as him - he felt creepy.

Then he heard a shout from the neighbouring bed, and then there were only left heavy breathings, seemed they had been finished.

"You're really great," Victor said, sat up and lit the bedside lamp.

Rio put his clothes on and accepted the money, "thank you," he kissed his partner, "call me next time!" he winked at Victor, left the room and closed the door.

The room was quiet for a moment, an extreme level of silent that nearly made people tinnitus.

"If it were you, I could let you be the top," Victor whispered.

Sherlock still kept covering himself with the sheets.

"Who knows you'd rather be the bottom." Victor's tone was full of disdain and ridicule, "Ha, I didn't know that I had fallen in love with a prostitute!"

Sherlock could hear the noise implying he was lying down.

"I was so stupid! if I want a prostitute, money can buy it!"

Sherlock heard him turn off the lights, turned his back and soon came the snoring.

After that day, Victor did not talk to Sherlock ever again, nor gave him a look. Soon after, he applied successfully to transfer to another room. Sherlock finally lost the only one who was willing to talk to him in school, left only on his own.

* * *

Quite a while, Sherlock and John had not seen each other, Sherlock needed to stay at school for the exam, John's troop also had special training during the time, they did not have a chance to meet up until Christmas Eve.

When the little black car which Sherlock had a love-hate feelings was parked in front of the dormitory, Sherlock stunned - both the persons he hated most and he loved most were inside here - but he only had a glance on Mycroft who sat in the front seat and immediately put it all behind him, and then he just stared at John Watson who sat in the back seat without blinking, he had never seen John in a formal wear, he looked so gorgeous that made Sherlock stopped breath suddenly. He found John's eyes also fixed on him, perhaps his formal wear looks also enhanced his charm.

Then John smiled at him - that supposed would make a formal looks John more attractive, but Sherlock resisted instantly - that was not his John, it was a cautious polite smile, it was a smile for the strangers, not the warm smile that John showed to Sherlock usually.

Sherlock sat in the car silently. On the road, silence spread. Their hands were both on the seat, their little fingers barely touched by accident, they moved their hands rapidly to avoid the touch, and looked out the window pretending to admire the scenery, made their distance even bigger.

The car had been driven onto the car ferry which bound for the Kowloon Peninsula slowly - It was the opposite route of Sherlock and John's first met, and the day now turned to the night, their mood also formed a huge contrast with the previous one - the flirtatious chatting now became embarrassing silence, and the curiosity and kindness now only left to be cold and strange.

The car was finally parked in front of the Peninsula Hotel which was full of Christmas decorations, the driver opened the door for them, and Mycroft led to the hotel lobby at once. Sherlock and John were following him but fell behind on purpose, when they had a distance with Mycroft, John hold Sherlock's hand quietly, but Sherlock immediately broke it, and then coldly glanced at John, speeding up the pace to catch up with his brother.

* * *

"Hey, Mummy." Sherlock reluctantly kissed his mother's face.

"Hello, Mrs Holmes." John took the hand of Mrs Holmes and kissed on it well mannered.

"Captain Watson." Mycroft introduced with a nasty smirk, "Sherlock's friend in Hong Kong."

"Oh, nice to meet you." Mrs Holmes smiled, showed her upper-class manner, but the feel was so cold and unwelcoming

"Call me John." John smiled and pulled the chair for her gentlemanly. Sherlock was disgusted at the way John tried to please his family.

"We have another guest." Mycroft looked at the doorway. "Oh, just mentioned her and she's come." they followed Mycroft's line of sight, saw a dressed up lady was coming, went straight to Mycroft and smiled to everyone.

Mycroft held her waist and introduced her to everyone, "Miss Adler."

Mrs Holmes was so happy to see her and hold her hand friendly, "Miss Adler, are you dating Mycroft?"

"Yes, Mrs Holmes." Adler looked like a decent British lady, "This must be your little brother Sherlock?" She smiled to Sherlock, only received a disdained snort. Then she looked at John, the expression was slightly hesitant, "This is…"

"John Watson." John politely held out his hand and shook her, but Sherlock noticed that he had a suspicious expression.

When the family and friends were sat down, dinner started, there was a weird atmosphere between them, seemed to be kindness but actually was cold. Sherlock observing every detail - especially about Miss Adler's silk stockings, the brand of her cigarettes and the colour of her lipstick, he had already seen these things and he remembered in where - in a minute, his mouth curled up and stared at Mycroft with a smirk. Mycroft frowned.

"Captain Watson, did you miss your fiancee in the UK?" Mycroft was fighting back. "What a pity you can't stay together during the Chrismas time."

John was stunned and looked at Sherlock, then tried to calm himself down and smiled, "She is fine, she should be celebrating the holiday with my parents at our home."

"I got some acquaintances in the army." Mycroft raised his eyebrows to Sherlock. "I can help you get a Family Dormitory for married military personnel, it's facilities are much better than the single person barracks, and then you can having a family reunion and get married to her in here."

"Um, frankly, I am quite enjoying the life of a bachelor because it's freer, and the single person barracks are not as bad as you thought."

"It's a blessing to forming a family, and it's a social responsibility for an adult man." Mrs Holmes stared at John with a smirk, "One day you're not getting married, one day you would give an unreliable impression to people, too unstable, not decent."

John glanced at Sherlock and reluctantly smiled, "I'm still young, it's too soon to consider marriage."

"maybe I'm old, don't quite understand the thought of today's young people." Mrs Holmes murmured, "Perhaps the idea of our old-fashioned family is too outdated, still insisting about the traditional etiquette. But I still can't imagine a gentleman who engaged with a good girl, would leave her in the countryside and went to a big city to have the fun of his own, it' definitely a big scandal, an irresponsible choose."

John did not know what to say and stayed silent. And Sherlock just let John deal with it on his own the whole time, had not even tried to say a word for him.

"Mummy, don't put your old antique thought on Captain Watson." Mycroft tried to calm the disharmony, and said regretfully, "but Captain Watson, if you're not getting married in this semester, I afraid that my little brother - your very best friend Sherlock, would not be able to attend your wedding, that he has returned to England most possibly."

Sherlock had no time to inform John of the news by himself. John eyed him in shock, but Sherlock just avoided him.

At the dinner party, Mrs Holmes treated Mycroft and Adler very kindly, but she just ignored Sherlock and John, no matter how John tried to show his decent sense of humour to please her, the response was cold and unwelcoming. Even unsophisticated as Sherlock, he knew what they were doing and they were done it for a special purpose - his family wanted to humiliate John Watson, made him felt embarrassment for his behaviour as had a taboo relationship with their little son; and Mycroft was demonstrating as a good example to Sherlock how to become a decent and elegant adult.

Sherlock could fight back an offending speech to insult them as a response, to defend John, but he chose to be silent - because he knew that John would prefer him to shut his mouth up.

Near the end of the dinner party, the waiter was serving drinks, the lights turned dimmer, some people began to dance on the dance floor.

Sherlock glanced at the boring John who seated beside him, John just looked away embarrassingly, feared to make an eye contact with Sherlock would encourage him to do something misbehaved.

"Don't worry, I won't invite you to dance in front of my family." Sherlock's deep voice whispered softly into John's ear, provoking the air that made him trembling. "But you lied, you said you never buying sex."

John sighed, thought that he should know Sherlock's deduction skills would find it out finally, replied whispered, "it's a gift from my colleagues... for celebrating my promotion..."

"A gift!" Sherlock snorted - he already recognised that Miss Adler's personal belongings were the female things he had seen in John's apartment, and the expressions on John and Adler's faces let him knew that they were not meet for the first time - and then he stood up, inviting Adler to dance before Mycroft, and took her to the center of the dance floor in front of everybody who was in shock by it.

In the dim light, with the lyrical music, Sherlock pressed against Adler with no distance between their bodies in the dance, Adler wanted to break free from him, but Sherlock hugged her very tightly.

"What price did my brother offer you, I'll give you double." Sherlock said to her neck, looked like he was kissing her.

"Treble." Adler smiled, her lips leant against his ear and said a number.

"Deal." Sherlock led Adler to turned with him and then stuck together with her again. Adler put her hands around Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock slipped his hands to her hips, they rubbed against each other especially clinging to the sensitive parts of their bodies, the erotic feelings with their dancing steps embarrassed the ladies and gentlemen beside them.

Mrs Holmes angrily glanced at the frowned Mycroft. And John clenched his fists and bit his lower lip, deadly stared at Sherlock as if he wanted to burn holes on his body by his anger.

"Who are you taking the revenge on, Mycroft or John?" Adler said with a frivolous smile.

"Both maybe, and counting my mother," Sherlock kissed her violently, in the middle of the dance floor, kept kissing while dancing with her.

Mrs Holmes was so angry that she just picked up her handbag and ran away from the embarrassment, Mycroft eyed John with a guilty expression and chased his mother out. And then only left John who sat alone here and continued to watch the erotic show which performed and directed by Sherlock.

* * *

When John and Sherlock left, it was so late that already no transports could get back to Hong Kong Island, so they went to a nearby hotel. John violently grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him into the small room, they had not talked since the dinner finished, John locked the door, and brutally threw Sherlock into the bed. Sherlock just snorted, avoided to look at John.

This was a small cheap hotel, the walls were thin, and most of the tenants went here for shagging, so when they stayed in silence, would hear clearly the dirty sounds came from the neighbouring rooms. The moans and groans from men and women forced John to remember Sherlock and Adler's shameless erotic show just had performed in front of him, those images came back to his mind no matter how hard he tried to forget it.

Jealous John unbuckled Sherlock's belt fast and violently, pulled his trousers and pants down to his thighs, and then turned him over, released his own cock from trousers immediately, and pressed against Sherlock's bottom. Although John's prick was sliding upon his gap, Sherlock still stayed silence, so John pushed the head inside it, even under the unprepared situation, Sherlock still shut his mouth up and suffered the pain when John pushed into more. This was the first time John treated him so rudely, but he was so angry that he just spit some saliva in his hand and roughly prepared Sherlock, and then thrust into him with his whole length cruelly. Sherlock bit his lip to endured the torment, did not say a word nor made snorts, just let John fuck him hard to vent his rage, to prove a point - they had been shagging only to vent their beast-like lust, without a trace of emotion.

John released inside Sherlock's body with a moo, and then fell down on Sherlock's back, calming his breathing and anger. When John pulled himself out, Sherlock could not help but hiss painfully. John lowered his head to see the swollen wound made by his anger, his stomach twisted of aches, he stroked gently around it with his fingers, and Sherlock trembled with pain.

"Well done, I just lacked the data of this aspect."

"What aspect?"

"The aspects of sexual violence, sexual abuse, jealousy, resentment, and inferiority? How these things drive people to lose their temper? Most sexual criminals are related to them."

"You shagging with me, just to collect data?"

"Yes, it's very helpful for my research, a sex experiment."

John angrily turned Sherlock over to face him, deadly stared at Sherlock, and Sherlock stared back with a look of disdainful and arrogant.

John rushed to climb on him and kissed him bitterly, Sherlock endured it with his wide-opened eyes, only unresponsive under the invasion of John's tongue, completely indifferent. At the end, John could only hug him desperately, used his whole body's energy to imprison him.

Silence reigned in the little room, no one moved to tidy up the clothes, no one cared the mess they made, but rigid to maintain such a position, close to each other, but felt their partners were so far away.

* * *

Sherlock did not remember when he was asleep, but had a hazy memory of something chilly was pasted to his wound, and the gestures were gentle - it's John, he cleaned themselves and pasted the ointment to Sherlock's wound, tidied up their clothes, covered them with quilts.

"Sorry... " Sherlock faintly heard a whisper, felt the warmth of being clinging, and then re-fell into sleep.

It was a wonderful dream. Sherlock dreamed that he and John returned to London and lived in a house with a 221b door number, they lived an ordinary and lovely life together behind the door - Sherlock was experimenting in the kitchen, John was drinking tea and reading newspaper by the fireplace, they exchanged a warm smile, and the place was so familiar as if they simply belonged there...

* * *

Then Sherlock woke up in the smell of tea, found John was sitting beside him with a smile.

Sherlock opened his eyes widely and looked at him - John's eyes were red and seemed had cried. And although he was smiling, the expression was lingering with sadness.

Sherlock received the hot tea that had just been made by John, sipped silently.

"I don't want our first Christmas - " John paused and swallowed, "perhaps the last one, would be ruined by this way."

Sherlock nodded slightly. John could not help but reach out into the lovely messy curls, caressing unstoppable.

"We go back?"

"Ok."

* * *

Sherlock did not know when John had been to here for the decorations, only knew while he stepped into the apartment, immediately covered by the Christmas atmosphere - Christmas ornaments, garlands, Christmas socks, and even a small Christmas tree on the desk, under it had been laid some Christmas gifts.

"Merry Christmas!" John kissed the Sherlock in a daze, laughing.

This... was really a surprise! - Sherlock never liked Christmas, because his home did not have a little festive atmosphere, his family treated Christmas like a routine, just better than none, but could not count as happy, let alone have surprises.

John held his hand and led him to the Christmas tree, putting a gift in his hand.

"I haven't prepared any gift." Sherlock stared at him, was at a loss.

"It doesn't matter, let's have a look."

Sherlock opened the wrapping paper, opened the suede box, found a pair of silver rings inside, he took them out, and found that they both engraved with a Chinese character.

Sherlock stared at John.

John just caressed Sherlock's cheek, "I will miss you..." he put one of the rings on Sherlock's ring finger, "let it be a memorial," he put the other ring into Sherlock's palm, and then stretched out his hand, "Would you wear it for me?"

Sherlock silently put the ring on John's ring finger.

"It's our name in Chinese," John said, touching his own ring. "I have checked, Holmes and Watson, translated into Chinese is 福爾摩斯 and 華生, inside the rings were engraved separately with 福 and 華."

Sherlock stroked his own ring thoughtfully.

John clung him in his arms, "I will remember you. Will you remember me?"

"um~" Sherlock only responded with a sound.

* * *

The phonograph was playing a slow dance, John and Sherlock snuggling together, dancing barefoot. John was so intoxicated, very satisfied with the arrangement of this two people's Christmas Ball.

Sherlock was a little bit absent - too much, it's too much of a sudden. He did not know where he is, now what to do - as if this is not a deal? John borrowed Sherlock's body to meet his sexual needs, he borrowed John's body to do sex experiments, this was fine, this was fair, easy to deal with. But now, what were they doing now?

"Could you let your brain has a holiday?" John tightened his arms around Sherlock and begged in his ear.

Sherlock also clasped John and buried his face in his neck, let himself intoxicated in the dance with him.

Just one day. Today was Christmas after all.


	6. Leaving

In the following week, they almost had not left the apartment, or more specifically, their bed. School holidays were already started, Sherlock no needed to go to school. During this period, John only left to report his duties in the army twice, the rest of the New Year holidays were spent with Sherlock.

"Sherlock~" John shouted and moaned. Their pantings and groans resounded in the room, no matter they had already naked, still felt like it was hot as on fire.

John was under him with a red face, voicing out an erotic sound caused by his thrusting, Sherlock saw the vulnerable John the first time, through John's eyes he saw the fragility of his soul - for preventing Sherlock's wound worsened, during this period, John let Sherlock be the top, which made Sherlock see a different scenery, he saw the predator John Watson's weak side. John was not always omniscient, always the experienced one, in the field of sex he might be, but in the emotional field, he was easily injured, he would be afraid and at a loss.

Sherlock kissing the sweat on John's skin, thrusting in and out more forcefully, made the sound of flesh collided with flesh getting louder - such sounds and tastes might not be experienced again after backed to London. Sherlock doubted he would ever have sex with anyone other than John, for him a similar experience had once was enough. Moreover, he doubted there would be anyone like John that would make him willing to tolerate, or even be interested in?

They tried hard to accommodate each other, with desperate hunger and thirst, asking for the deepest resonance, and they reached their climax together.

Two sweaty bodies entangled, softened in bed.

Before the temperature cooled down, Sherlock took the towel to clean them up, and then pulled up the quilts to cover them. John soon fell asleep.

Sherlock could not sleep, bored, eyes glittering and looking around, found a corner of the envelope protruding in John's coat, and he reached for it with curiosity.

Sherlock widened his eyes - it was a letter to home from John, specially wrote for his fiancee Mary. John told Mary that he had a lover in the letter and wanted to cancel the engagement with her.

Did the "lover" mean Sherlock? Sherlock was blank in mind. When John turned his back in sleep, Sherlock quickly put the letter back to the envelope and put the envelope back.

John might just on a whim. The letter might not be sent. At least up to now, the letter has not been sent yet. Sherlock decided to pretend that he did not know anything - John did not say a word to him, so Sherlock should not know anything. That was it, left the decision to John.

Sherlock lied back in bed, leaning towards the heat of John. John hugged him in the sleep and Sherlock clung to him, they held each other tight, kept warm in the winter with each other's body temperature.

* * *

Knockings on the door broke their sweet dreams.

Sherlock rubbed his eyes sleepily, "Who?"

"Maybe it's a colleague in the army." John got up and put on his trousers quickly. "Only a few acquaintances in the army have here's address."

"Oh," Sherlock was reluctant to get up and get dress.

"Who is it?" John went to the door and cried out.

A moment of silence, and then a hesitant female voice sounded, "John? It's me... "

"Mary?" John stared at the door in shock, and then looked back to Sherlock who was also frightened. John came near to the door and confirmed it again. "Mary, are you?"

"It's me." Mary's voice was so weak that she had no strength to shout. "Can I get in?"

"Wait a minute!" The two in shock and horror hurried to dress up of decent looks embarrassingly, hastily tidied up the bed, and then they exchanged glances, John put his hand on the door handle, turned, "Mary, why are you here? ..." John had not finished his asking, a petite woman went into his arms, buried her head in his chest and cried.

"Your colleague told me that you were on holiday and then gave me here's address." She was totally reluctant to raise her head as if avoiding to face John, and her voice was trembling with tears. "Sorry to disturb you ... I'm sorry ..."

John patted her shoulder hesitantly, did not know what else he could do, he finally hugged her lightly to comfort her, when sweeping her back he glanced at Sherlock's reaction, but Sherlock was so careful to not showing any expression, just looked away.

"Mary?" John was so embarrassing. "Why wouldn't you tell me you're coming? What happened?"

Mary just hid her face in hands and shook.

"Something's wrong at our home?" John was worried. "Involving with my parents?"

Mary just shook and sobbed.

Sherlock coughed for the uncomfortable situation. "I think I'd better leave..." he reached for the door.

Seemingly, Mary just found that there was another person in the room, stunned, and then so frightened that she needed to hide behind John. "Ah, you have a friend here? Sorry, I don't know..."

John quickly held Sherlock's hand, who was about to leave, "Sherlock, wait..."

Sherlock smiled weakly, "It doesn't matter, you two should have something to talk about, I'll find you later."

"But ..." John refused to let go, did not want Sherlock leaving in such an embarrassing situation, but could not think of an excuse to retain him.

Sherlock pushed his hand off and looked at his eyes. "Don't worry about me, I mean it..."

John still stared at Sherlock as if he wanted to nail him here with his eyes.

Mary weakly looked at John and then Sherlock, with her pale face, "you..." she suddenly clung to John's arm, painfully said, "you two..." then she fainted away with cold sweat covering. John immediately held her weight and then carried her to bed.

"Mary? Mary!" He settled unconscious Mary in bed, and then took his first aid kit out and used the equipment to examine her, with a frowned expression.

Sherlock wanted to help in this situation, he got to the doorway and carried Mary's luggage inside, then he stood aside did not know what to do.

John wiped Mary with a towel and covered her with quilts, then stood up and pulled Sherlock aside, carefully eyed at Mary and then whispered to Sherlock, "she's... pregnant."

Sherlock puzzled looked at John, "But ... she... was not staying in England all the time?" he did not want to doubt John, but could not think of any other possibility, "you two... "

John was also puzzled, "The last time I saw her, was two years ago's Christmas." they looked at each other. "And we never had... she is a good girl and we are not married yet."

* * *

Sherlock eventually returned to the dormitory alone, gave a proper space to John and Mary to deal with their problems - especially now involved with infidelity, unmarried pregnancy and premarital sex, all were taboos in the society, were very private things, and happened to a girl, so it was unsuitable to involve an outsider such as Sherlock.

To be honest, Sherlock never cared about these social etiquettes, but that was what happened to John's fiancee - he needed to consider John's feelings and wills. He respected John, so he should respect his fiancee too. At least John said that he liked Mary and treated her as a family member.

Although while seeing someone else - specifically, a woman - lying on his and John's bed, Sherlock was really upsetting.

Then the winter holiday ended, Sherlock returned to continue his classes and home works and tests, and be forced by Mycroft to giving his mother an apology, and had a dinner with the so-called "family".

A whole week passed, not received a note from John.

Sherlock had been thought that they might have a semester of time before saying goodbye, but it seemed that this winter holiday was their end.

Another week passed. That night, Sherlock laid in his dorm room, did not light, and thinking about John - he suddenly felt a burning lust, he missed John's voice, he longed for John's touch, so he reached into his pyjamas, pretending it's John's hand, pretending John was here...

Pound. A strange noise from the window.

Sherlock's hand retreated and sat up, looking at the window. Then he saw John, who climbed inside from the window - under the moonlight, John looked terrible, deep dark undereye circles, depressed haggard face, an expression of losing hope.

Sherlock came out of bed barefoot, stepped forwards to John; John also turned and got down from the window ledge, reached for Sherlock. Two weeks separated made them missing each other so much, so now they both greedy staring at each other, as if the pole of the magnet could not be avoided by the other side of the deep attraction, Sherlock stretched out his hand and touched John's face, stroked over his eyes bags, cheekbones and lips softly. John clasped Sherlock's face in his hands and pulled him into a vortex-like kiss, sadness, missed, destruction, sweetness, craving and bitter, those huge amounts of feelings exported at a sudden, they drowned, Sherlock would be died by drowning.

Sherlock struggled helplessly, and he did not know what was happening, just felt that John was dedicated to suck his soul, and his body was pushed by John to the bed and stumbled on the bed. John immediately covered him, with his elbows to support himself, staring at Sherlock closely, indulging in his enticing green eyes.

A familiar feeling. Sherlock shook the eyelashes and remembered their first time.

"I..." John's lips quivered.

Sherlock knew what he wanted to say so quickly covered his mouth, "don't say."

John slumped looked at him. Sherlock gripped John's hand and guided it to the top button of his pyjamas, just as their first time. John was fascinated looking at him, unlocked his buttons one by one, removing his pyjamas, trembled stroked his chest and sensitive pink nipples softly. Sherlock looking at John shook and breathing up quickly.

John watching Sherlock's panting chest, his dizzy expression, could not help but confessed, "I... "

Sherlock hurried up and shut John's mouth with his own lips, gently licked inside his mouth, chasing his tongue, so that he could only whimper and moan. He fumbled with the buttons on John's shirt, took it off, touched every inch of skin exposed, and then he unbuckled John's belt, stroked down his unbuttoned trousers, held John's heavy burning desired prick.

Under Sherlock's caressing, John could not resist to moan and groan loudly, and then he roared and pushed Sherlock, pressed against him on the bed, biting his lips thirstily, his eyes full of dangerous primitive longing, took off all their clothes at the fastest speed. Sherlock looked at this John, softened in bed, just let John fiddling with him as if he had returned to the inexperienced first time.

John took the ointment from bedside, pasted on his hand and massaged into Sherlock's private opening. "Relax," he whispered in Sherlock's ear, kissed his ear, his finger gently pushing into Sherlock's body, "let me in..."

Sherlock widened his innocent eyes and looked at John, seemed like still the inexperienced virgin child. He was trembling under John's invasion, heavily breathing, the whole body was on fire. John could never stop watching this Sherlock, his Sherlock, the Sherlock that only let him explore...

"Ouch..." Sherlock intolerably twisted, while John kept thrusting him by his fingers, he could not bear it, "John... be quick..."

John withdrew his fingers and pushed his cock into the small hole that he was dreaming of. They stared at each other, fascinated by their lovers' throbbing expressions, panting together, sweating together, pressed against each other's naked skins, hearing each other's heartbeats, and let the connected bodies part pounding a breathtaking rhythm.

"Sherlock..." John could not control himself, his shaking lips flapping again. Sherlock saw it, he saw John's expression, he knew it was coming, he knew he could not bear it, so he clasped John tightly and buried his head into John's shoulder, avoiding the scenario he would not dare to think of. John hugged him closely, let himself thrusting in and out of Sherlock fiercely, and then he desperately confessed, "Sherlock, I love you... I love you!" This irrational frenzy pushed the two over the edge of the climax, they sprayed fluids on each other's bodies, totally mixed up together into a mess.

Their situation was exactly like this - such a mess.

Sherlock's chest panting against John, they twisted together paralysed, just kept heavy breathing. Sherlock could not see John's expression as he was clinging on Sherlock, he could only close his eyes and had one thought: it was over.

I love you - Sherlock knew that John was saying goodbye.

One day they did not confess, one day they could still pretend, and kept the improper relationship as a game, easy to deal with. But when the confession was told, which meant that they had to face this relationship seriously - to choose between went together or separated. Frankly, it could only have one outcome, because living in this era, living in such a society, they could not go together as lovers.

Thus, goodbye.

Sherlock forced the moistening fog to stop, he looked up at the ceiling, hoping those tears would flow back to his eyes. Then he found that John had been slightly trembling, and his chest was wet - John was crying.

Sherlock reached his hand out for John's short hair, wispered while caressing, "John?"

John just hugged him, clinging tightly, buried his face into Sherlock's shoulder and swallowing his tears in silence. Sherlock rubbing his back and stared at the ceiling.

Finally, John seemed to be calm down, he wiped his face with his own hand, sucked his nose, pretended nothing happened. Then he looked up to Sherlock, stroking his face, made a plea in a gentle voice, "Would you run away with me? We leave here, go to a place that no one knows us and have a new start - just you and me... "

For a moment, Sherlock wanted so much to join John, to lie with him, to act as this was not bullshit, to pretend it was a viable option. But he smiled weakly and looked at John shook, "no."

"Why?" John was confused, raising his voice, "I love you, and I only loved you in my life."

"No, John," Sherlock smiled bitterly, "you love your country, so you becoming a soldier. You love life, so you saving lives by becoming a doctor. You love your family, your parents, so you will not hurt their feelings. Because of love, you will not betray those things, will not do it just for one person, just for me. If you did that you are not John Watson, and the rest of your life you will not be happy.

John stared at Sherlock, speechless.

"You have chosen, or you will not be so painful," Sherlock said lightly and looked away.

"But it is unfair," John hissed, "it's unfair to you," he looked at Sherlock, "Why should I give up you if I care about them?" John hysterically flapped his lips, "The fact is I love you, only you."

"Can you choose to marry me?" Sherlock laughed. "It's not even an option! What are you confusing at all?"

John glared at the laughing Sherlock, his face wrinkled bitterly.

"Are you confusing to be or not to be Mary's husband?" Sherlock still laughing, "You can choose, no one stops you. You never loved her, why be engaged with her? Her baby is not yours, why should you marry her? If all of this has nothing to do with love, why would it confusing you?"

"I had intended to cancel the engagement with her." John's face was gloomy.

Sherlock first heard him personally admitted - he really intended to do so. For Sherlock?

"But an accident happened, my big brother was dead." John swallowed. "I received the telegram last week, be informed that he was drowned, drunk drowned in a puddle on the roadside after heavy rain," he had a mocked and twisted bitter smile.

Sherlock squinted, deducing all the results and premises by his high speed calculating brain, and finally announced, "so you will marry Mary as soon as possible, I see." He lowered his head and avoided from John.

John hysterically laughed, "really, Sherlock? With only these words, you know what happened?" He nervously grasped his hair, still madly smiling, "Up to this moment, I still don't understand what is happening!"

"Mary is not infidelity to you, you said she is a good girl, would not have pre-marital sex, so she was forced to do it, otherwise she would not have the dignity to see you." Sherlock expressionlessly deduced, "Thus, she had been raped."

John shook while hearing that.

"While a sexual crime was committed, why did she not ask for help from the police? In addition to her conservative personality, the suspect might be an acquaintance - forcing her to leave her home and travel to Hong Kong to find you, the suspect is likely to be a family member." Sherlock glanced at John and looked away again. "And you have a longtime alcoholic brother."

John buried his face in his own hands.

"You might have thought that you could force him to compensate his fault - replaced you to marry Mary, to take care of his own child - but at this point, you found him dead." Sherlock went on, "In order to conceal the family scandal, you must lie to your parents; in order to save the baby's life, it's a Watson after all and your brother's own child; and for Mary's reputation, a poor innocent girl, a woman you should take care of, but suffered a lot because of your playful character. " he paused, "You feel obligated to take all of this. So you will keep your promise of marriage, to marry her before everyone can see Mary's belly has begun to swell." Sherlock smirked, "You should act fast - according to the voyage from the British to Hong Kong, she is now probably two or three months pregnant."

Terrible silence made them both heard a humming.

"Why can you say that so calmly?"

"I am just telling the truth, and that's all logical."

"Do you really not care about that the rest of my life will be tied to another woman and sleep with her on one bed?"

"You had had this plan before you met me, I don't understand what changed after I appeared." Sherlock looked at John coldly. "It is the life you had intended to live, an ordinary people's life, and the life that you will end up living."

John stared at him angrily, his chin strained.

"I will soon be back to London, and you will stay in Hong Kong to continue your military serving, our lives will not have any intersection after that. You give up a marriage for me, we will still have no happy ending." Sherlock soothing swept John's thigh and smiled, "Don't be silly, John, we are seeking fun, not seriousness." He teased to touch John, stroking his groin.

John snapped his hand off and turned his face angrily.

"John~ " Sherlock still touching his thigh, "You can have casual sex while you're engaged, why can't you do the same after married?" He touched John's rounded ass and rubbed it. "Before I leave, we can still do it." His hand wrapped around John's cock and kissed his shoulder.

But John did not respond to him.

* * *

The following weekend, John and Mary held a simple wedding at the St John's Cathedral, only a few colleagues of John's troop and two to three senior executives participated. Sherlock presented himself, but only as a passer-by and watched the ceremony in a far distance, watching the groom with his bride accepting the blessing of the crowd, watching his John throughout did not show a real smile, and did not look up to Sherlock even once.

That was it. With Mycroft's help, they could live in the Family Dormitory for married military personnel immediately. Everything was fine. Sherlock turned around and walked away, there was no business for him.

Mycroft and Mrs Holmes were very happy with this development and jointly decided that they would return to London ahead of schedule. Thus Sherlock would leave soon.

It did not matter. Sherlock made an appointment with John, they would go back to the apartment, bid an appropriate farewell before their real separation. Sherlock walked with this only hope, moving on.

* * *

Hong Kong was a hot and humid place, often had storms, and it was really not a good time to had it now - in the evening which Sherlock and John made an appointment.

No matter how the thunder and lightning striking outside, Sherlock was determined to go to the appointment, even when the umbrella had been blowing away from his hands, even when his whole body had been soaked.

It was uneasy for him to arrive at the apartment finally, Sherlock found his looks was so awkward that nearly to make him laugh, but he had no time to care about it, he was just anxious to open the door of 221B.

It's empty.

Besides no one was here, it had nothing else left.

The traces of being resident have been dealt with by someone, all personal belongings of the previous tenant were removed, only left some old furniture which belonged to the owner of the house.

Sherlock sat slumped down on the bed without bedspread, sheets and pillows.

It seemed that John would not come.

Sherlock huddled on the mattress, clinging himself in the damp clothes.

Waited for an hour and another hour, until the storm stopped, dawn was breaking.

They missed the chance to say goodbye...

* * *

The Holmes family were on board with luggage, even Mycroft decided to withdraw from Hong Kong and returning to London. Since then, Sherlock would have no slightest linkage with this place, even he wanted to find someone to pass a message from him, there would be no one.

On the deck, Sherlock leant against the railing, one foot on the iron branch, looking at the distance, just like the day he first met John - but now, behind him would not appear the warm smile and laughing blue eyes, his John.

Siren sounding, the ship was about to set sail. Sherlock looking around, expecting the man would come bid farewell to him, but he found through and through in the public, still could not find him.

The ship sailed, he was about to give up, then he found the little black car parking on the shore not far away - the little black that carrying him back to school at the first time they met.

John was here. He was inside the car, looking at Sherlock far away.

Sherlock felt that something was dripping on his lapel and on the floor, he was glad that the tourists beside him were busy waving to farewell that they had no time to become aware of him, and he had no time to take his eyes off and his eyes could only keep fix on the car, until the ship sailed farther and farther, until it became a little black spot that could not be recognized again...

* * *

Sherlock performed very normally this day, better than normal, his mother and brother even considering he was a good boy now.

He told himself, everything was over, that was very good, this period's experience would be very useful for his future life. But this experience also was an overload for him, he did not want to run through such a thing ever again, ended it up early was good, saved the time to be upset and wasted. It was just a game, like his brother said, no needed to be serious.

Sherlock smiled and was glad to be back to London soon - that was a funny place. Although he travelled with his brother since he was a little child, running across most of the earth, he's favourite and most familiar place was always London. It was a lively city, full of things that made Sherlock never bored.

Sherlock was far away from a bad mood, just feeling a little bit floating above the ground, perhaps it was because under his foot was the ocean, perhaps it was because of the seasick he felt...

* * *

After midnight, Sherlock still could not sleep, he quietly left the cabin, went up on deck for some fresh air. Some music in the distance attracted him, he followed it to the ballroom door, most passengers were sleeping, only several night owls were inside drinking and dancing.

It was the song which played on the Christmas day, the song that he danced with John.

Suddenly, memories were brought back overwhelmingly, heartache emerged, he suddenly realised that it would never happen again - he and John, John's body temperature and heartbeat, John's lips and voice, John's touch, John's love... he would never have these things again.

He would never have the chance to tell John he love him. Even though John had told him, more than once.

There would not have a chance again.

Tears burst out, Sherlock desperately covered his mouth, to stop crying out, but he could not stop his emotional collapse, he had no way to stop...

* * *

In the next morning, a stranger patted Sherlock's shoulder and handed him a cigarette. Sherlock took it and smoked - it was not the type he had smoked, it was marijuana.

Sherlock was hooked on this psychedelic feeling, which allowed his mind to relax, not thought about John.

And marijuana was just the beginning of all the addictions.


	7. Many Years Later (Part One)

The earth was sloping and the world was in chaos.

A miasma of poverty and despair hung in the air among the narrow lanes of London, people who wanted to escape from the reality using sensual pleasures to paralyse themselves, hooligans took the advantages to steal and rob, it was the messiest time for the society.

Soon after Sherlock followed his family back to London, Britain officially declared war on Germany, the shadow of the world war shrouded throughout Europe, Mycroft was ridden by the country after that, he was so busy that could be away from home for months, and had no time to take care of his little brother. Mrs Holmes required her little son went to the countryside of Sussex with her to escape the war, but Sherlock could not tolerate the boring country life, slipped back to London alone on the way, and began his vagrant life in the following months.

During these days, Sherlock lived on the streets as a vagrant and met many of the lowest class of London, those beggars, prostitutes and tramps taught him so many things that the orthodox education would not teach him, like how to make a living on his own. As a result, he was now very familiar with how to use human nature to carry out illegal activities. He crosschecked all the things he learnt from the streets and from the books, complemented each other, that enhanced his ability to deduce on crimes. All this was really funny, much funnier than the boring school education, and let Sherlock's brain fully exercised and no longer depressed in boredom - except at some points, during his free time, he could not find a method to prevent John Watson invading into his mind.

He was very angry. He had locked it away in the deepest and most subtle corner of his mind palace. Why did those memories attack him time after time? Like the enemy bombers, why suddenly attacked our country, destroyed a town and killed hundreds of lives in just a moment?

All patriotic, honest, healthy men had been gone to the battlefield. Only left the old and weak remnants, cowards or corrupted elites who could not face the turbulent times, seeking methods to escape. Although Sherlock did not reach the legal age to join the army, nor he was a patriotic fanaticism, he still thought he was useless at that moment, when his brother and John were closely related to the battlefield.

He knew when the war broke out in Europe, the Asian side was also been in a terrible situation at the same time, he did not know whether the war spread to Hong Kong, he did not know whether John was safe, whether John had been transferred to other place's battlefield, he did not know anything.

Because of the deep unease, Sherlock could not face himself calmly - anytime he was not busy with other things, his mind was not occupied by any interesting problems, he would have another crisis of emotional collapse.

He knew what could help him stop this, stop his noisy brain and overwhelming emotions - drugs.

He almost tried all drugs on the market. Like his body was just a test tube, could be poured into different chemicals, mix and match, to experiment. He did not like those made him more excited and out of control, he preferring those made him calm down and lazily lay down, then he could feel a warm dizziness - like John, like John hugging him, like them sleeping together...

* * *

"Sherlock!" be slapped across the face, Sherlock forced himself to open his eyes, he had injected heroin and slept past in a dirty lane next to trash cans.

"What's up?" Sherlock held his burning face, biting his teeth, and looking up to the detective, he had seen last time who named Lestrade. "Have a new case?"

"Are you taking drugs again?" Lestrade frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "I do not work with a drug addict."

"Wait!" Sherlock grabbed his leg. "Interesting case?" his eyes shining brightly.

"It's the case you solved last time when you happened to be around, it is a follow-up." Lestrade frowned. "Maybe you were wrong, made us arrested the wrong guy; otherwise, it's a copycat crime, while we have not publicly announced any information about the case. Both cases are very bad!"

"Interesting!" Sherlock stood up happily, clapping his hand and wanted to follow Lestrade.

"No, you look like a mess." Lestrade stopped him and quickly looked over him, covered his nose and frowned. "You will turn the Scotland Yard into a smelly rubbish dump."

Sherlock had no choice but reluctantly followed Lestrade back to his apartment to take a bath and put on the clean clothes he provided. Under Lestrade's repeated nagging, Sherlock swore that he would stoptaking drugs because the Scotland Yard would not use any clues and evidence provided by a drug addict.

Sherlock met Lestrade could be by pure chance, but it could also be inevitable. Sherlock's extraordinary deduction skills had been famous among the vagrants, different street people came to seek help from him, as a reward, Sherlock asked his clients to provide information to him as the Homeless Network. That was why Sherlock could know where had a crime just happened in the district with the first-hand information, so he could rush to the crime scene and observe the clues before the police had cleaned up everything. As a result, Sherlock became a regular visitor to the crime scenes, he always bluntly ridiculed those police officers as complete idiots and pointed out the obviously huge amount of evidence that they totally missed. Most officers ignored him, not violently drove him out would be counted as good temper. Excepted one, the Inspector Lestrade, he treated Sherlock with an unusual patience, and would even listen to him to change the direction of the investigation.

Like this time, after Sherlock bathed, he received the internal reports from Lestrade and could take a look at the testimony, and he quickly found the suspicious place. So the two went to the crime scene and the Scotland Yard and finally found the suspect within a police group.

* * *

"Why did you trust me?" After everything was done, Sherlock was staring at Lestrade on his way home.

"Because you helped me out, boy!" Lestrade rolled his eyes, said helplessly, "I don't want to admit, but sometimes you might smarter than the sum total intelligence of the entire Scotland Yard, although you're still a kid!"

"Really? "Sherlock doubted - besides John, Lestrade might be the second person who would praise him in this world.

"Actually, I just want to take the credit, okay? You never charge for your services nor take any credit, why don't I take advantage of it?" Lestrade smiled.

Sherlock seemed to be more persuaded by the latter explanation - human nature, people were egoists, it was logical.

"In fact, we can continue to cooperate, I might give you a title, just..." Lestrade pondered.

"What?" Sherlock's eyes were shining - he really needed the job and it was his ideal job to help the police to investigate the cases.

"Kids at your age should be going to school," Lestrade said, "don't you think you are wasting your gifted brain for dropped out school so early?"

"Schools are boring, I already learned all the things they want to teach me." Sherlock rolled his eyes with disdain.

"Don't you want to get into university?" Lestrade asked, "It's not the same as the secondary school, where you can challenge the existing knowledge, and even can develop your own set to replace it, just so long as you are justified, it's not the game of obedience anymore. And there have so many interesting subjects: chemistry, physics, criminology, psychology..."

"Well, could I skip the secondary school if I go to the university?"

"You could, if you could pass the entrance exam, you could even get a scholarship, then your study fee would be paid by somebody."

Finally, they reached a consensus - Sherlock got to be a university student, and being the Scotland Yard's "Consulting Detective" at free time, a job title that created by Sherlock. During the war, Sherlock could stay in Lestrade's apartment, as his wife had gone to the countryside to escape the war, a solitary man was easy to find spare space for a housemate, Lestrade could use this opportunity to monitor Sherlock and not let him back to the drugs.

* * *

Lestrade was too kind to him, treated him just like a big brother, Sherlock was skeptical about his real motive. When Lestrade went to work, Sherlock would investigate his things, searched any suspicious clues in his apartment. And he finally found out the truth.

When Lestrade came back from work, Sherlock decided to talk to him. He coughed to draw his attention.

"What's up?" Lestrade was unfastening his tie, an unknowing innocent.

"Your wife is cheating on you, has been cheating on you a long time ago, and she secretly had sexual relationships with so many people, not just one."

Lestrade changed his expression, even his voice changed, "It seems not your business?"

"She didn't go to the countryside to escape the war, she eloped with her secret lover."

Lestrade sat down helplessly, covered his face with his hands.

"Your marriage has had a problem since the beginning."

"It's my fault." Lestrade slumped to admit. "I didn't give her enough love. When a woman can't get love from her man, she could only find it outside.'

"You had an extramarital affair first, that person existed before you married her - or to be said, your wife is the extra person in your relationship, you in love with that person first."

Lestrade slumped looked at Sherlock, did not want to admit it but could not deny either, just felt so tired.

"It's Mycroft," Sherlock announced calmly.

Lestrade held his head with frustration, looked away from Sherlock, did not response.

"You two were secondary school classmates and roommates in a boarding school." Sherlock continued to tell the facts he knew. "I had been studying in a boarding school, I could quite understand what happened between you. Did my brother abandon you for his career? That wouldn't be completely unexpected, to know that he is in cold blood and ruthless, he can sacrifice anything for his work and the country! But you didn't need to abandon yourself to find a woman you don't love and got married, or you did it because of the secular prejudice? "He scoffed and continued, "Or you're so great that finding a cover for him so that you two can continue your affair and doesn't affect his career? Is it a political marriage so you and your wife can have affairs separately? No wonder you don't care about your wife eloped with another man. I know Mycroft have many dirty tricks in the political field, but I don't know he is so shameless even in his private life... "

"Don't comment your brother in this way!" Lestrade was suddenly furious, grabbed a vase to throw on the ground. The vase was broken into pieces. "It's not like that, Mycroft is not like that!"

Looking at Lestrade's angrily widened eyes, Sherlock shrank away a little bit.

"It's me." Lestrade's shoulders collapsed. "I couldn't live up to him." He slumped down again and buried his face in his hands. "I like women too. I thought my life would be easier if I chose the road with a woman." He looked at Sherlock. "So I chose that."

Sherlock stared at him - that desperate look suddenly made him thought of John.

"The failure of my marriage is not related to Mycroft. After graduated, we have been just ordinary friends and nothing more." Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "Now we only have a connection in work, he is not my direct supervisor, but count as my superior officer. That's it."

"But ... but ..." Sherlock was a bit overwhelmed, and it was not what he imagined. "You help me is because of him, you were sent by him."

Lestrade helplessly forced a smile, "At first, I did not even know you're his little brother." He looked at Sherlock. "Even if you're not his brother, I would help you. Our country is being in war now, the world is in chaos, if I have the ability to help a talented young man I would do it, is it so difficult to understand? Or I was so bad in your impression, that I wouldn't do a good thing even I could do it?"

"But you have told my brother about my whereabouts and situation?" Sherlock questioned.

"I have." Lestrade nodded. "He is my superior... and my friend. He has always been very concerned about you."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock was laughing.

"Yes," Lestrade smiled. "But I didn't hand over you, am I righteous?"

"Did he order you to hand over me?"

"Just think about it, he's an insane perfectionist control freak."

Sherlock laughed with Lestrade, and that was the beginning of their friendship.

* * *

September 7, 1940, Nazi Germany strategically decided to stop the aerial warfare and started a systematical bombing of the British capital. From this day to November 3, London was bombed for 56 out of the following 57 days and nights by an average of 200 fighters per night, only the first two days caused more than 800 people died.

During the London Blitz, many tube stations in the city became air-raid shelters. Among this period, Sherlock was forced to hide in a station in the vicinity of the university, together with a crowd of professors, students and other citizens, waiting for revocation of the air raid siren, but the day seemed never come, did not know when the classes could get back to normal. There were an old professor intended to continue his class in the air-raid shelter, to avoid students abandoned school too long, but while most students were anxious and worried they were hard to concentrate on learning, and finally left only Sherlock still asking questions and demanded to do experiments, made the old professor eventually decided to give up.

All day resting, chatting, playing cards, listening to music (someone brought the phonograph down to the air-raid shelter to play albums), the boredom really drove Sherlock crazy. Even still a few members of the Homeless Network down here, they could not risk their lives to go outside, could not bring any useful information to Sherlock, could not know what happened to Lestrade and the Scotland Yard. Frankly, when hundreds of bombers circled overhead, Sherlock did not think that London criminals would run around the street. The only thing Sherlock could do was reading. Fortunately, he brought a few thick chemical books and the Annals of Crime Archives, could help him pass the time.

The annoying air-raid siren seems endless. It might pause occasionally, but when the living got back to normal just few days, the siren would ring again and pushed the crowd stuffing back to the shelter.

Sherlock found a backup engine room in the depth of the tube station, allowing him to stay alone quietly. All day with a bunch of bored people crowded together, he simply felt him reached an unprecedented limit of disgust about human's stupidity.

It was there, he met James of the Department of Mathematics - one day, when he reluctantly returned to the backup engine room, he found that person was sitting on the table, reading the Annals of Crime Archives he left on the previous day.

"Interesting." that person turning the book pages, said with a creepy tone, "Hi, I'm James, the same university with you, major in Maths." he turned to stare at Sherlock, with two big and childlike eyeballs.

"Hi." Sherlock was a bit unhappy because someone had moved his stuff and invaded his base. The man also made here have a weird smell, might be he had painted an unpopular aftershave - but the man did not seem to be as idiotic as the outside crowd.

"It's so boring. Right?" James glanced at the door as if to know what Sherlock was thinking, his big eyes turned, with an ambiguous strange smile, "Sherlock Holmes, of the Department of Chemistry. There is no puzzle that could make you dance... "

Sherlock shocked that James knew about him and what he liked. "You are... James? How could you..."

James dropped the book, jumped down from the table, came to Sherlock and invaded his private area without hesitation, he put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder casually and whispered to him, "I'm your fan, I know you solved several cases for Scotland Yard - those were the kind of puzzles that most people can't solve."

Sherlock frowned at him, thinking about whom James was, but the information he had observed was not much - except that he knew James was misbehaving, and he should be gay.

James touched Sherlock's body provocatively. "Don't you feel bored when you are on the side of angels? Morality is so vulgar." James said, groaned while he blowing into Sherlock's ear. "Have you ever thought about that the world of crime is more colourful and interesting?"

Sherlock trembled under his aphrodisiac staring, as he longed for touch by another person for so long, and the young man in front of him was good looking and not annoying.

James was holding Sherlock's cheek, staring at his Cupid's bow, whispered while he almost touched those lips, "Don't you want to stand on the other side? Obviously, hell is more fun than heaven..." James continued to lean forward, his lips almost rubbed Sherlock's. Sherlock slipped back slightly and crashed into James's arm which waited behind him. "The only rule here is the violation of the rules..." Sherlock looked at James confused, his lips parted slightly, and James was fascinated by it and leant forward again, getting closer to the pair of seductive lips...

Sherlock pushed him away at the last minute, stepped back. "Don't know what you mean." He clenched his fist, did not dare to imagine that he had almost kissed a person other than John - that thought had let his stomach aching twisted, feeling so sick and disgusted.

"You're not stupid." James stared at him. "You have built the Homeless Network, but do you know there is another bigger network in London underground?"

Sherlock raised his head and stared at James. "Do you mean London's underground crime network?"

James looked at the corner, where the spider web became thicker and thicker, and a black big spider was crawling on it. "A network that is still in an expansion, which connected to all the smart people, can you imagine how interesting it is?" His hand climbed on Sherlock's back again silently.

"Are you connected to that network?" Sherlock found the idea a little fascinating - the ordinary people were so stupid to deal with; if replaced them by the smartest people, how interesting it would be?

"I am the network." James's hand continued to linger behind Sherlock. "If you join, we'll become the brain of the network. We can make fun of those stupid people as playing a nest of ants, how fun that would be?" He came closer to Sherlock's neck, smelt his smell. "We'll come up with a lot of great ideas, to play with the idiots of Scotland Yard, so much fun."

James's voice was just like a lullaby that totally controlled and attracted Sherlock, cursed him to be a softie, and he had presented a seemingly interesting future blueprint that made Sherlock's boring life have a little bit fun...

James went closer to Sherlock, one arm holding his waist, one hand stroking his chest, stroking his sensitive nipples underneath the thin shirt cloth. His lips lingering slid down Sherlock's shoulder and neck, and the warm moisture of his mouth wandered around Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock was unable to resist, tightly closed his eyes - John, he imagined that was John in front of him, his John... long-lost caress, long-lost kiss, beloved John, I was yours...

Sherlock felt hugged tightly by someone, which could clearly felt someone's hard erection was sliding against his own. They were both hard and were looking for comfort in the friction.

"Oh..." Sherlock made a slight groan, and he let himself be pushed to the edge of the table, and let the man touch and kiss him casually.

James pushed him over the table, pressed against him, bit his shoulder.

"Hey!" Sherlock struggled - John would not bite him! But... the gentle hands, which good at caressing, was back. John was the veteran who knew the art of touch. Sherlock closed his eyes to enjoy it, John would touch him in this gentle and seductive way, stroked his whole body and wandered the source of his desire...

The wet tongue invaded his mouth - Sherlock longed to kiss, missed the feeling of kissing John, to tell a thousand words in a silent way... but this was not John! John's kiss would not be so rude, so possessive, like a damp snake to climb into the mouth, entangled with you until you choked. John's kiss would not be so disgusting, that was not John!

Sherlock deadly wanted to push James over, James bit his lip finally, made him taste the blood. "Leave me alone!" Sherlock's voice revealed extreme disgust, wiping his lips and breathing heavily.

James was also panting, he angrily staring at Sherlock, as if looking at the world's most difficult mystery. "You refuse me, no one has ever refused me!"

Sherlock showed a disdainful expression that he has been disgusted. "Never met a person so self-righteous as you. I don't think it'll be fun to be with you."

"Really?" James rolled his eyes that he has been disgusted too. "You think it'll be fun to be with the idiots of the Scotland Yard or standing on the angel's side with your boring British government brother?"

Sherlock frowned deeply - this person was hidden something, he knew Sherlock very well to an extremely horrible level. "You appear to be self-contradictory - if they are so boring, and if your game is playing with them, then your game is bored to death!"

"Oh!" James smiled as he thought of something funny. "Interesting! I never aware that you want a longer foreplay. Now I get it, you like flirting - like to flirt with me!

Sherlock frowned at him.

James laughed happily. "I get it, that you think I'm funnier than them, so to deal with me is a funnier game. Yes, you're right! It's a great game!"

Sherlock had a headache and started a little dizzy - what if that weird smell did not come from the aftershave, but a drug...

"I wouldn't let you down, my love." James smiled and came closer. Sherlock felt only shaky. "Chasing is fun. We have a lifetime to play this game, our love game."

Sherlock's sight began to blur. He felt his whole body becoming hotter and hotter. "What did you spray? You madman..."

"Just want to add a little spice. Let's try once for warming up, otherwise, how could you know which part you'll miss me most when we separate?" Sherlock felt that James's tongue slid over him again, those hands climbed on him and undid his buttons one by one...

"No!" Sherlock who was covered in sweat tried hard to avoid him. "No... " He almost black out, only felt that disgusting tongue got inside his mouth again...

Sherlock was screaming inside, had a creepy feeling that just like had been throwing into a large spiders nest, and the spiders climbed and covered his body all-pervasive. He wanted to vomit, but he knew he would only threw up a lot of living spiders...

A clap of thunder, came around as if there was a huge explosion from the distance, but the feeling of vibration was instantly sensed as if very close. Sherlock still trapped by James's body, he vaguely heard the noise of the crowd outside and the thunder of the water, he opened his blurred eyes, found that James was turning around and looking at the flood quickly got in from the small gap of the iron gate.

James left Sherlock, let him be flooded by the coming water. Sherlock nearly lost consciousness, only felt be surrounded by the cold water, floating around. The cold water made him suddenly awake, he was so weak that even unable to swim, just tried to keep his body soft so could keep himself floating, and beware to avoid obstacles or sink to the bottom of the water.

The water level rose very fast, already lost the trace of James. But Sherlock was so dizzy and had no time to think of him, he could only desperately head out of the water and kept breathing. The ceiling of the backup engine room was very high, almost had three floors height, but the water still quickly drowned to the beam, Sherlock struggling to hold the beam, his head nearly touched the ceiling above, if the water level continuing to rise, very soon he would be killed here.

Sherlock's whole body soaked in the water with only his face barely out of it, alerting himself must keep awake and hold the beam tight, waiting for the rescue. He estimated that the enemy's bombers blew up the subway facilities, was likely to burst the water pipes or channels nearby, so the flood flooded in and drowned this underground air-raid shelter. He felt like it had been for centuries, but the terrible situation in front of him had not improved a little. He fell asleep several times and woke up by the frozen water every time, struggling to float again before sink into the deep water, clinging to the beam, his teeth vibrating while his lips becoming senseless.

The water level stopped rising and the flooding calmed down. Some debris floating around, while the machines and furniture were submerged in the water.

Sherlock looked through the clear water and found James. James looked at Sherlock with his eyes wide-opened, his face indignant, but remained a deserted calm underwater. He was like a beautiful specimen, an evil and pretty black spider specimen, was quietly nailed to the ground, slightly shaking with the moving water, as if dancing.

James who danced for the puzzles.

This day when James came here looking for Sherlock, he would be impossible to guess his ending - was trapped in a flooded underground air-raid shelter, one leg crushed by a fallen iron cabinet, being nailed to the ground and being left underwater forever.

He might be magical, he might be a criminal genius, the star of tomorrow of London's dark forces. He had illegal intelligence, he had expanded his criminal network, he even wanted to attract Sherlock to his business. He thought he would become the new mystery that even the Scotland Yard and the British government could not solve. However, he could not predict the biggest mystery that made for him by fate - the war would rewrite one's destiny in a moment, it was more frightening than any crazy criminal, even if you were a genius still could not survive from the joke of the era.

Rescuers later saved Sherlock from the disaster. After a week's rest, Sherlock returned to his original life, and the German bombing offensive against Britain lasted until May 10, 1941. After another four years, the Second World War officially ended.

During this period, Sherlock temporarily resided in several places, included air-raid shelters, Lestrade's apartment and also some tattered single apartments (driven out by landlords because of failed experiments every time). He completed his chemistry degree in these years, got a part-time job at a chemical laboratory at Barts to earn his living expenses, and continued to act as a consultant detective at Scotland Yard for free, solved many mysteries for the police.

He had returned to the university to investigate James of mathematics department - James Moriarty was a doctoral student in mathematics, academic excellence, character modest, was also the most popular teaching assistant in the department. He had many fans or said he had lots of believers even outside school because his speech was very moving and exciting, could easily instigate people to embrace him and his beliefs. People admired him, followed him and listened to him, making him and his members just like a religious cult.

When Sherlock wanted to investigate deeper, he had to seek help from Lestrade and even Mycroft. With the help of Scotland Yard and the British Government, a large criminal group named "Moriarty" was found. Under the cover of the war, it quietly weaved a criminal network in London underground, involved in various crimes in all aspects. Lucky that it was uncovered during the embryonic stage, to prevent its expanding and its infiltration into the British government and among Europe and the United States.

Even in its embryonic stage, Sherlock had to work together with the government and police forces for a total of three years before the "Moriarty" network was finally destroyed (part of the reason was resources were shredded because of the war). If James Moriarty did not die of an accident, if he did not reveal to Sherlock any hint of that organization, if the "Moriarty" group kept growing quietly, that would be unthinkably horrible.

* * *

Once again, being summoned for investigation by Lestrade, Sherlock forgot his ongoing experiment in the apartment, resulting in a small explosion that damaged the place seriously. The landlord relentlessly confiscated all the security deposits that Sherlock had paid in advance and had no hesitation to drop all his stuff to the street. The locks of the apartment were all changed and all neighbours had been warned not to rent places to this young madman.

Sherlock had no choice but moved his baggage to Barts temporarily. He stayed in the laboratory at night, and take the opportunity to make good use of the facilities there for overnight study. When he tired, he lay on the table to rest. After a lapse of one week in such a rush, he still had not found a new budget home - there were limited cheap single apartments nearby, and most had blacklisted Sherlock. If he could afford to pay for bigger houses which for two or four residents, he would have a lot more choices, but it seemed too extravagant for Sherlock.

"Let's find a flatmate! Who can help you share the rent, and also can keep an eye at home to make sure it's safe, to prevent you be driven out again!" Sherlock's colleague Mike Stamford said when he came to the lab to take the report.

"Ha, who'd want me for a flatmate?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, thought that most people's heads were incredible as could produce such illogical and unrealistic things.

"Who knows?" Mike shrugged his shoulders and smiled, dimples appeared on his round face. "The world is so big, there must be someone who can get along with you." Then he pushed the door and left.

Someone who could get along with him - Sherlock thought of John for granted. Sharing an apartment with John had used to be his dream, but... Sherlock shook his head - no more daydreaming, his teenage days had passed for a long time, and now John's son would be soon a youngster... Yes, John was already someone's husband and father. Sherlock was saddened at the thought that they had not seen each other for years.

Would John still remember him? - Sherlock meditated while turning the ring on his finger. This ring, always worn on his hand, was just like part of his body. Had John taken it off and replaced with Mary's wedding ring? Sherlock knew that Hong Kong had been occupied and was liberated after three years and eight months. Were the Watson family safe? World War II was over, would they back to England after that?

* * *

221b - Sherlock was shocked, could not believe it when he saw the house number.

"Mrs Hudson, I'm going to rent it." Sherlock did not hesitate a bit.

He and Mrs Hudson were standing outside a Baker Street's apartment - Mrs Hudson, the landlady here, met Sherlock on the road who was looking for a unit. She told him that her apartment was empty, her tenant just moved away last month. Sherlock decided to give up when he heard that it was a two-room apartment with kitchen and bathroom, it would beyond his budget too much. But he had helped Mrs Hudson to ensure her bad husband being executed, so Mrs Hudson promised to give him a special deal for owing him a favour.

"You decided to rent it before you get in and have a look?" Mrs Hudson found it strange.

"Yes, I like this house number." Sherlock had made up his mind.

But he still followed Mrs Hudson into the apartment and have a look around - a large kitchen for him to do any experiment with, two armchairs in the living room with a warm fireplace, elegant and comfortable home layout, just like his dreaming apartment 221b, the only fly in the ointment was... the one who supposed to live with was gone.

Sherlock asked Mrs Hudson if he could move in immediately and decided to go straight to Barts to retrieve his luggage. However, in discussing the rent, Sherlock found that even though Mrs Hudson offered a great discount, it was still too expensive for him to rent it on his own in his current economic climate.

"It doesn't matter, I'll find a flatmate as soon as possible!" Sherlock remembered Mike's suggestion and replied perfunctory to Mrs Hudson who was suspicious, decided to find a solution later. "I can pay my half rent first, in a few days I'll find my new flatmate, then he can pay his half!"

"What? This..." Mrs Hudson's sentence did not finish yet, Sherlock had left like a whirlwind.

* * *

When Sherlock returned to Barts to pack his stuff, met Mike again in the corridor.

"Sherlock, are you still looking for a flatmate?" Mike asked at once.

"Yup, you have someone to introduce?"

"Yes, I just met an old friend who is looking for a flatmate."

"Oh, nice one!"

"He was supposed to come with me to see you here, but he had something else to do suddenly. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow?"

"Great, see you tomorrow!" Sherlock was so excited when he left.

To find a flatmate was such a hard thing for Sherlock, but now even that could be settled down so quickly, Sherlock began to believe that God was finally blessing him.

* * *

Sherlock came to Baker Street and standing in front of the door with his luggage, frowned when he glimpsed the "for rent" sign still hanging, thinking he should ask Mrs Hudson to remove it immediately. He knocked on the door knocker at 221b impatiently, but no one responded.

"No, I think that's inappropriate." Mrs Hudson was quarrelling with somebody, her voice came through the door.

Sherlock pushed the door and found it had not be locked.

"We can move in right now." A gloomy desperate male voice sounded as if he was the Grim Reaper, had been back from hell, and every living thing on earth annoyed him - it was this man arguing with Mrs Hudson.

Stuff slipped from Sherlock's hands and dropped on the ground. He widened his eyes, silently going upstairs to approach the source of the voice.

"But I promised him first, and he said he has a flatmate too," Mrs Hudson continued.

"We can pay you a deposit first," the depressed voice replied.

Sherlock opened the door to the living room, Mrs Hudson and the voice's owner looked up at him.

The man was thin, had a haggard look and dark skin, wearing worn out clothes, one hand holding a cane and stood with a military style, his frowned brows deepened his bitterness and vicissitudes.

They just stared at each other, the stunned feelings were all hidden behind their sophisticated masks.

"Sherlock, this gentleman wants to rent this apartment too, are you sure you will move in with your flatmate?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"Um, yes..." Sherlock answered absently, his eyes just could not move away from that man.

"Oh, I see..." a hurt expression flashing quickly in his eyes, the man then lowered his head and clenched his fists, smiled politely. "I'll find another apartment then." He walked across Sherlock, walked straight towards the door with a limp.

Sherlock froze, his brain had too much information shouting at the time, in complete chaos. Then he turned with horror and stared at John's back, so scared that he did not make any sound in time. "Wait..." He almost lost his voice because of the scare. "Wait!"

John stopped.

"You... do you want to move in here?" Sherlock swallowed hard, his voice weak. "You and Mary."

"No," John turned around, glanced at him and then looked down again. "It's just me, and someone else who wants to rent an apartment too."

"Your friend?" Sherlock suddenly caught a glimpse of the ring on John's hand, paired with his, but could not see a wedding band - and suddenly he had a glimmer of hope, his heart beating violently.

"A total stranger." John found the ring on Sherlock's hand too and looked at him with a non-understood expression. "I just met an old schoolmate from the medical school, he said he could introduce a guy to me to be my flatmate."

"Your old schoolmate is Mike Stamford?" Sherlock's mouth curled into a smile.

John looked at Sherlock with surprise.

"Hello, I'm the flatmate he's going to introduce to you." Sherlock reached out his hand. "Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson." John smiled for the first time, reaching out to Sherlock.

"Mrs Hudson, we'll be sharing 221b," Sherlock told Mrs Hudson. "Please prepare a lease for us."

"Ah, how things happened?" Mrs Hudson looked puzzled.

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock growled.

"Ah, I see!" She hurried down the stairs.

Their hands still held together, and Sherlock could not help but caressing John's hand with his thumb - just like the first time when they shook hands, he copied the action John did to him.

Sherlock looked at John with his smiling eyes, watched the warmth in John's eyes fading away, and then John pulled back from their connection and looked aside.

"You've changed a lot." Sherlock's voice was so weak that just barely heard.

"Yeah, I'm not the John Watson..."

* * *

Later that day, Sherlock and John moved into 221b with little luggage.

"Dr Watson, would you like some cookies?" Mrs Hudson greeted her new tenants with tea and snacks.

"Thank you." John behaved cautiously, the friendly sunny John in the past seemed like a mere illusion that had passed through the ages.

"Then you are a soldier who has just retired from overseas? A national hero!" Mrs Hudson clapped hands excitedly.

"Not so honourable." John's face became gloomy. "Only a released prisoner of war was repatriated due to injury." He gave a wry smile and hit his damaged leg with his fist. "Just a useless person now."

"Oh," Mrs Hudson covered her mouth and knew her spoke the wrong words.

Sherlock blamed Mrs Hudson with a glance.

"Nevertheless, your family would be proud of you." Mrs Hudson added a seemingly safe conclusion.

"Not necessarily," John shrugged. "And they're all dead."

Sherlock had already deduced John's situation - if he had any relatives, why would he find a total stranger to share the flat? It could imagine that in England he had no "home" anymore - but John's indifference still surprised Sherlock. Had the affectionate, romantic, responsible John Watson been destroyed by the war?

Mrs Hudson seemed a little panicky, Sherlock signalled her to stop talking as to prevent her to make an even bigger mistake.

"Oh, it's so late, I'll leave you two here then," Mrs Hudson said hastily. "I still have the stuff to do."

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock said rudely.

When she reached the door, Mrs Hudson looked back hesitantly, "you two can find me if have any problem, anytime is okay!" she finally hurried downstairs when Sherlock glared at her.

Now only left Sherlock and John sitting side by side on the couch, embarrassment spread for an instant, totally silenced.

Sherlock peeped to John's face, just found a tense expression of contemplation. Sherlock's hand was naturally placed on John's thigh, stroking it, as was customary in the past, hoping to soothe John's fickle mood. But John froze immediately, then gently stopped Sherlock's hand and slightly moved away - which meant refusing.

Sherlock stared at him, watching the man he missed for nearly seven years.

"Listen, Sherlock." John kept looking aside but now finally glanced at Sherlock. "I'm glad to see you again, really." He smiled slightly and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "I'm really gratified that you are safe and sound."

Sherlock frowned slightly.

"I like to be your flatmate." John swallowed and looked away. "But I don't want to continue that kind of relationship now, do you understand?" His voice was fading and trembling slightly.

Sherlock's eyes widened, totally did not understand, but he could not find a word with his mouth opened.

"We are both tired, let's rest earlier," John said, holding his cane and limping back to his room.

Sherlock just froze here, could not move in a while.

* * *

Terrible shouts destroyed the quiet night. Accompanied by screams and struggles from hell, there were some painful moaning and nonsense from dreams.

Sherlock did not fall asleep at all. He got up quickly, put on the dressing gown, walking fast towards the source of the sound.

He tried to open the door of John's room quietly, found that the door was not locked.

Beneath the pale moonlight from the window, Sherlock found that John was sweating, frowning and writhing in bed painfully and his sheets were a total mess - he was trapped in his despairing nightmare, could not break free, only could shout helplessly.

"John?" Sherlock quietly approached, petting John's shoulder trying to wake him up, but John did not respond.

Sherlock climbed into bed and slid under the blanket, hugged John from behind, kissing his hair and sweaty neck, hoping his own body temperature and heartbeat would comfort John.

At first, John had been struggling to get rid of Sherlock's hug and even hit him with his elbow. But eventually, he calmed down in Sherlock's arms, his peaceful breathing indicated he was back to his normal sleep, his tense limbs relaxed and naturally intertwined with Sherlock, comfortable and reassuring.

Sherlock hugged him and observed his reaction in case the nightmare recurred. But John seemed to sleep well, so Sherlock followed him to fall asleep unconsciously.

* * *

Sherlock awoke in his sleep and found John's straw-coloured hair was rubbing his jaw. God, they were snuggling together - Sherlock hugging John tight, one leg resting between John's, and John's face buried under Sherlock's chest, his hand just resting on Sherlock's waist.

It was only a simple position - just two people cuddling and sleeping together - but it was what Sherlock dreamed of in the past seven years; he experimented with innumerable drugs and almost accepted James's temptation was just tried to copy this feeling. The warmest feeling. The happiness that made his heart so warm and blessed. It was the first time Sherlock sleeping so well this seven years, that he felt so refreshed after awoke and he never loved sleep so much. Sleeping was just a boring duty for him in the past, which he must force himself to do in order to keep his body functioning.

Sherlock lowered his head just wanted to peek at John's sleeping face. But at this moment, John clenched his hands around Sherlock's waist, his face buried deeper on Sherlock's chest, as if he did not want to let Sherlock see his face. Did it mean John already woke up and he was willing to let Sherlock hugging him? And he was still willing to cuddle Sherlock? Therefore...

"John?" Sherlock whispered softly, his voice still drowsy.

"Why are you here?" John's voice was trapped on Sherlock's chest, it sounded weak. "I clearly said that..."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock put down his hands and tried to sit up, but John's hug had not loosened a little, therefore Sherlock stayed in his place. "I heard you having a bad dream."

John gave a wry smile mockingly, "It must scare you."

"No..." Sherlock wanted to say something to comfort John, but he was really not good at this area. "I feel sorry for your family..."

John left Sherlock and turned around, Sherlock still could not see his face.

Sherlock curled up and leaned against John's back, only wanted to shorten their distance. "Your parents, Mary and kid..."

"They all thought I was dead," John said. "My parents had lost their eldest son not long ago, then Mary left, they became so lonely that their daughter-in-law and grandson in Hong Kong were their only sustenance. Then the war started, the most important thing for them was to ask about our news, but the telegram from Hong Kong informed them of my death, Mary and grandson were whereabouts unknown... They were old, couldn't stand it, both got sick. After seriously ill for half a year, they passed away one after another. "

Sherlock caressed his back as if doing so would heal a little John's wounds.

"I never knew a thing until I returned to my hometown in England," John continued. "It was last month. Their gravestones were overgrown with weeds because no one has ever come to visit them."

Sherlock cuddled John from behind, pressing tightly against him, hoping John would be warmed by his body heat. "What happened to you?"

"At that time, the place I was stationed became a horrible battlefield where the Japanese army mistreated and murdered soldiers, civilians and medical personnel, and they did that could be just for fun. Even if had escaped from being killed, could bear the abuse, it's still hard for anyone to survive from hunger and disease. One year after being detained in a prisoner-of-war camp, not many fellow soldiers survived, it's just me in my team. Later, they brought me to the shipyard of Yokohama in Japan as a slave, I was released after the end of the war. All these years, I lost contact with the outside world, that's why everyone thought my whole team had all long died. " John memorized, although he tried his best to maintain a normal tone, his voice still helplessly trembled as if every word could still sniff the cruel bloody smell.

Sherlock was shocked, he never thought of that his John might be unable to come back from this, and at the same time he could totally felt his parents' pain - if he had received the notice of John's death, he could not imagine how would him become, would he lost his courage to live...

"I'm glad that you're back..." Sherlock's voice trembled, clinging John and his lips pressing against John's back. "It's fortunately that you are alive..."

John felt a moist feeling behind his back, right at where Sherlock leaning against him - did Sherlock cry? No, it was impossible. Even when they broke up, he did not cry, but laugh instead...

"I was just too arrogant." John suddenly laughed. "Thought that I could do something for my family, could make them happier. I never thought of a twisted fate..."

"What happened to Mary and the baby?"

"They're fine. Mary married a British Chinese soldier with her baby and now has a good life in Hong Kong."

"She... they haven't die? you said your family were all died?"

"No, it's lucky for me that they're safe, otherwise I would blame myself too. It's just... they're not my family anymore. Before Japanese occupied Hong Kong, the military received intelligence, so that a group of British Chinese soldiers disguised as civilians, mixed with the public to avoid unnecessary sacrifice. Mary and the kid disguised and withdrew with them, an officer has been taking care of them, and he is more competent than me to be a good husband and good father. When I was released and back to Hong Kong, Mary told me everything, so I divorced her, let them be together officially. Mary and her child finally found their happiness. "

"But Mary shouldn't have done that! She supposed to be your wife, and she knew that you're alive..."

"I shouldn't have done that! I was too arrogant to assume that I married Mary would solve her problem... She cried the first night after married me, she discovered our relationship and she knew I don't love her... "

"What?" Sherlock suddenly remembered the letter that John wrote to Mary to get rid of their engagement - if John had not destroyed it before he got married... "She discovered the letter?"

"You..." John froze. "You knew about the letter..." His voice was very bitter and gradually lowered. Then he struggled out of Sherlock's hug, retreated to the bedside and turned his back to Sherlock.

"I should know that a relationship without love doesn't work, a forced couple wouldn't find happiness." John's shoulders collapsed, burying his face in his palms. "It doesn't work with Mary, also doesn't work with you."

Sherlock sat up and getting confused. "We... we are different, not the same as you and Mary."

"The same," John said quietly.

Sherlock did not understand, repeatedly thinking about John's words - "I don't want to continue that kind of relationship now", "You knew about the letter...", "a relationship without love doesn't work"... "without love"... The premise was: John had told Sherlock he love him, but Sherlock never made the same declaration; John did not know that Sherlock had read the letter, but if Sherlock had known that before Mary appeared, that John was willing to cancel the engagement for him but still had not said a word, John would have thought that it was because Sherlock did not agree with John's decision; John had proposed to run away with Sherlock after Mary appeared, Sherlock rejected him; on the contrary, Sherlock proposed that they could continue the sexual relationship, saying that's no big deal... Deduction: John thought that Sherlock did not love him, that was why he agreed him marrying Mary; John thought that Sherlock only wanted a sexual relationship, no matter in the past or this moment he kept the same mind; "that kind of relationship" that John did not want to continue was a purely sexual relationship; John still had feelings for Sherlock, that was why he still wanted to keep the hug even though it broke his previous decision... Conclusion: "The same" meant "a relationship without love" - John on the premise that he did not love Mary and Sherlock did not love him, and John's premise is wrong.

"No, you're wrong!" Sherlock had just finished the deduction in his mind and jumped out of bed right away, knelt down in front of John and forced John to face him. "I love you, I love you."

When Sherlock saw the great despair in John's eyes, he knew it was all his fault and he hated himself. He wanted to kiss away the sorrow and wrinkles on John's face, so he started kissing John. He needed to kiss the despair and helplessness away from John.

John like a suffocated person needed Sherlock's lips like needing oxygen, so he just kept irresistibly touching it - but John kept his lips closed and forced himself to push away from Sherlock's passionate kiss at last.

John turned his face. "Don't do anything just because of guilt, I don't need pity." He looked at Sherlock with grief. "You'll regret this."

Through those eyes, Sherlock realized that John had regretted marrying Mary just out of pity and guilt: he thought his parents might not die if Mary and the kid stayed by their side; he thought Mary would be happier if she had not entangled with him; he thought himself was useless, only messed things up...

Sherlock did not want to see that expression on John's face again. He forcibly pushed John down on the bed, pressed his entire body against him, fiercely glared at John.

"What're you doing?" John was a bit overwhelmed.

"I love you," Sherlock said it again in the earnest tone - he stared at John as if he was the centre of the universe, the origin of everything. Then Sherlock invaded John's mouth, nibbled and licked John's lips, and then his tongue pried open John's lips and slipped inside, to ram and toss, wrapping John's tongue to tease it to follow. Sherlock wanted to melt John Watson with the most fanatical emotions, he wanted John never being so cold and dead inside, so negative, he wanted him to be alive and being as warm and sunny as ever.

John tried to push him away, but he was too fascinated by Sherlock's kisses, not tough enough to reject.

"John... " beside those endless kisses, Sherlock used his hands to touch and caress John, plus the friction their body rolling against each other, he needed to turn John Watson on.

John struggled hard, breathing and wriggling under him. "Sherlock, don't do that..."

"I've loved you since the first time you kissed me, the first you entered me." Sherlock kissing John's neck while his hands slid into his pyjamas. "I like to be possessed by you, and I like to possess you too." His prick kept rubbing John's private part until he felt their erections both hard enough while pressing against each other. "But more than that, I love not only your body but the whole you."

John writhing struggled as he could not stand the touch of Sherlock's erection under the layers of fabric, but he could not resist moaning.

"John," Sherlock spoke into John's lips. "you want me too." His hand wrapped on John's crotch.

"Sherlock," John helplessly looked at Sherlock, his eyes watery. "You wouldn't want me... the present me..." He closed his eyes. "I can't even walk without the cane."

"I want." Sherlock's lips slid down John's body, he was pulling down John's pyjama bottoms. "I love you, no matter how you are..."

"Sherlock... " When John's pants were pulled down, he trembled with the temperature of the air but then immediately felt how moist and hot inside Sherlock's mouth. John's hands helplessly clutched the sheets and groaned. "don't…"

Sherlock swallowed John's whole prick and then spat it out, letting the saliva shine and glow on it. He carefully licked its root and balls, kissed it everywhere, and then swallowed it again and used his tongue to caress it. John was trembling and breathing hard under Sherlock's blowjob. Sherlock held on John's hips and kept doing the blowjob for him, deepening each time and gradually accelerating.

"Sherlock..." John reached out, wanted to grasp Sherlock's hair but was fear of hurting him.

Sherlock took John's hand and leaned forward. John took the opportunity to pull Sherlock down and kissing him desperately like a drowning man finally found the oxygen cylinder, to taste his own taste in his mouth. Sherlock was happy that John finally responded to him, kissing him back, his John. Sherlock's hand caressed John's body naturally and began to unbuckle John's buttons, wanting to touch more John's skin. But John caught Sherlock's hands, rolled over and pressed down Sherlock under him, eagerly deepening the kiss. Sherlock responded hornily, indulging in the sense of being pressed by John, lost in the French kiss that John led.

John held Sherlock's hands over his head with one hand, one hand pulled down Sherlock's trousers, stroking Sherlock's desiring erection, the long-lost touch made Sherlock tremble and moan. John held both their pricks, stroking up and down, let they thrusting into his hand. Sherlock looked up at John, recognized the desired fire in his eyes - when John was crazy for Sherlock, it was always there.

My John, is back.

They stared each other ecstatically, stabbing and lingering together, creating the greatest pleasure of their bodies. This churning rhythm, the taste of sex, it was fascinated. They watched the other one lost control because of him, and then a white light penetrated the front, they all shot on each other's bodies.

John collapsed on Sherlock, they both still wearing their pyjamas which had stuck to the fluid.

"I really love you." Sherlock hugged John, their panting chests pressed against each other, intoxicated with the lover's smell.

"I love you too," John said softly, his lips sticking to Sherlock's cheek, a kiss of him as each word was spat out.

So lazily they lay together, let the passage of time, none of them wanted to get up nor separate - they separated too long, no one wanted to leave again while the other one now was so close.

Until the footsteps came from downstairs, they came fast.

John looked at Sherlock, "Who?"

Sherlock frowned, "It's not Mrs Hudson."

"Sherlock? Where're you?" a man's voice sounded.

John covered them with blanket immediately, then he showed a protecting gesture in front of Sherlock.

"Aren't you hiding from me that you're back to those habits?" sounded getting closer and closer.

John frowned at Sherlock, but Sherlock just looked away.

"Next time I will visit your new home with Scotland Yard's drugs squad!" the man was standing behind the door now, the door handle being turned.

"Police?" John looked at Sherlock in panic, not waiting for him to answer, covering his face with the blanket and turning to face the door.

The man came in and stared at John with a look of doubt. "Oh, sorry, did I get in the wrong room?" he was not sure if he should leave, his gaze wandering along the bed and the door.

"Yes, this is my room," John replied.

"I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes," said the man, frowning at the uplifting human shape beside John. "Do you know where he is?"

"He... lives downstairs," John replied, clutching the blanket which covering Sherlock, and ignored the action Sherlock trying to uncover it.

"Oh," the man still stared at the thing under the blanket which kept moving.

"I'm here." Sherlock finally struggling to get free from the blanket, his face reddened as being baked too long, his hair was messy.

Lestrade was startled, glared at Sherlock with open mouth, and then looked at John again.

"He's sick," John tried to explain, "I'm a doctor, so he sleeps here to accommodate me take care of him."

"Um," Lestrade's voice showed that he did not believe a bit, but he did not argue with them. He only told Sherlock, "A new case. You go downstairs to me when you get dressed." then he left and closed the door.

John was so frightened, Sherlock could only look at his pale face and burst out laughing.

"Sherlock." John did not know what was so funny - they had just been broken the law and caught by the police. "Who's he? Why's he looking for you?"

"He is Scotland Yard's Detective Inspector Lestrade, he came to asking me for help." Sherlock still could not stop laughing. "He's having an affair with my brother, so no need to be afraid."

"With your brother?" John's face was even more horrified than had been caught by the police, and Sherlock just laughed out loud.

"Actually he should thank for me, that I was the one who gave them a chance to make it up." Sherlock looked so proud. "They got together in secondary school, but then broke up and became colleagues later, and often met to exchange information about me. Last year, Lestrade the idiot finally got divorced with his so-called wife, and be my brother's lover again."

"Oh."

"Of course, it's just in private, in public they are just coworker," Sherlock took John's hand and caressing him gently, in a way that suggesting something, "like us, now we can tell others that we're flatmates." Sherlock smiled at John and wishing it would be their future relationship - lovers in private, flatmates in public.

John gripped him back, just smiled. They stayed awhile, then Sherlock got up put on the dressing gown, going downstairs to change his clothes.

"Wait," John remembered. "Why he mentioned those habits and the drugs squad?"

"Um... it's just an experiment," Sherlock smirked. "You know I like experiments." He winked at John and disappeared at the door.

John sighed, looked at the walking cane which leaning against the bed, his expression became gloomy again.

* * *

When John changed his clothes and walked down with his cane, Lestrade had just summarized the case to Sherlock.

"This is my new flatmate, Doctor John Watson," Sherlock smirked and introduced John to Lestrade.

"Greg Lestrade." He reached out to John with a polite smile.

"Glad to meet you, Inspector." John shook hand with him with an awkward, cautious look.

"Dr. Watson will also be my assistant and working partner." Sherlock went on to announce.

"What?" John and Lestrade surprised in unison, both turned to Sherlock.

"I need an assistant." Sherlock rolled his eyes, pouting to Lestrade. "You know I can't get along with Anderson."

Lestrade sighed helplessly. "So are you coming?"

"You go first. I'll be right behind."

"Thanks." Lestrade left.

John glared at Sherlock. "What assistant?"

"It's fun," Sherlock showed a glamorous smile. "I need your medical knowledge."

"Help you to investigate?" John seemed doubtful.

Sherlock nodded.

"Are you now a private detective? Why Scotland Yard would find you for help?"

"A consulting detective - a unique job invented by me."


End file.
